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THE SPECTACLE MAN 


* 

Out of a song the story grew ; 

Just how it happened nobody knew. 
But, song and story, it all came true. 























































y t ?, 


























































































The Spectacle Man, leaning his elbows on the showcase 


The 

Spectacle Man 

A Story of the Missing Bridge 

B y s 

Mary F. Leonard 

AUTHOR OF 

t( THE BIG FRONT DOOR ” 

Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill 



BOSTON AND CHICAGO 



X* 


THE U8RARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

SEP. 9 1901 

COPVRIGHT ENTRY 

/?*! 

CLASS ^XXc. N#. 

/^TO/^ 

COPY B. 


Copyright , /go/, 

By W. A. Wilde Company. 
All rights reserved. 


The Spectacle Man. 


TO THE ONE 
Whose Love has been from Childhood 
An Unfailing Inspiration 
Whose Friendship has made Dark Paths Light 
This Little Book is Dedicated 
In Memory of “ Remembered Hours ' 9 



CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER FIRST. Page 

Frances meets the Spectacle Man . . . 1 1 

CHAPTER SECOND. 

A Certain Person . . . . . .22 

CHAPTER THIRD. 

Gladys . . . . . . .32 

CHAPTER FOURTH. 

They look at a Flat ..... 40 

CHAPTER FIFTH. 

Some New Acquaintances .... 50 

CHAPTER SIXTH. 

An Informal Affair . . . . . .61 

CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

A Portrait ....... 77 

CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

The Story of the Bridge . . . . .86 

CHAPTER NINTH. 

Finding a Moral . . . . . .106 

CHAPTER TENTH. 

The Portrait Again . . . . .118 

CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

Mrs. Marvin is perplexed . . . .128 


7 


8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

At Christmas Time ..... 

CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

One Sunday Afternoon ..... 

CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

Three of a Name ...... 

CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

A Confidence ...... 

CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

Hard Times ....... 

CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. 

At the Loan Exhibit ..... 

CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 

The March Number of The Young People* s Journal 

CHAPTER NINETEENTH. 
Surprises ....... 

CHAPTER TWENTIETH. 
Caroline’s Story ...... 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST. 
Overheard by Peterkin ..... 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND. 
The Little Girl in the Golden Doorway 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. 

** The Ducks and the Geese they All swim over ** 


Page 

134 

151 

164 

1 77 

186 

198 

207 

2I 5 

231 

240 

249 

2 57 


Illustrations. 


Page 

The Spectacle Man, leaning his elbows on the 

showcase ” . . . Frontispiece 1 1 

‘ What is your name, baby ?* ” . . . 54 

‘ Little girl, I wish I knew you * ” . .120 

She pointed out a picture, set in diamonds 99 . 200 




9 



The Spectacle Man. 


CHAPTER FIRST. 

FRANCES MEETS THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

“ The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do — ” 

sang the Spectacle Man, leaning his elbows 
on the show-case, with his hands outspread, 
and the glasses between a thumb and finger, 
as he nodded merrily at Frances. 

Such an odd-looking person as he was ! 
Instead of an ordinary coat he wore a velvet 
smoking-jacket ; the top of his bald head 
was protected by a Scotch cap, and his fringe 
of hair, white like his pointed beard, was 
parted behind and brushed into a tuft over 
each ear, the ribbon ends of his cap hanging 


ii 


12 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


down between in the jauntiest way. It was 
really difficult to decide whether the back or 
front view of him was most cheerful. 

“ Will it take long ? ” Frances asked, with 
dignity, although a certain dimple refused to 
be repressed. 

“Well, at least half an hour, if I am not 
interrupted ; but as my clerk is out, I may 
have to stop to wait on a customer. Per- 
haps if you have other shopping to do you 
might call for them on your way home. ,, If 
there was a twinkle in the eye of the Spec- 
tacle Man, nobody saw it except the gray 
cat who sat near by on the directory. 

“ Thank you, I think I’d better wait,” 
replied Frances, politely, much pleased to 
have it supposed she was out shopping. 

At this the optician hastened to give her 
a chair at the window, motioning her to it 
with a wave of the hand and a funny little 
bow ; then he trotted into the next room 
and returned with a St. Nicholas , which he 


THE MEETING. 


presented with another bow, and retired to 
his table in the corner. As he set to work 
he hummed his tune, glancing now and then 
over his shoulder in the direction of his 
small customer. 

Perched on the high-backed chair, in her 
scarlet coat and cap, her hands clasped over 
the book, her bright eyes fixed on the busy 
street, it was as if a stray red bird had flut- 
tered in, bringing a touch of color to the gray- 
tinted room. From her waving brown locks 
to the tips of her toes she was a dainty little 
maid, and carried herself with the air of a 
person of some importance. 

If the Spectacle Man was interested in 
Frances, she was no less interested in him ; 
neither the street nor the magazine attracted 
her half so much as the queer shop and its 
proprietor. It had once been the front par- 
lor of the old dwelling which, with its veranda 
and grass-plat, still held its own in the midst 
of the tall business houses that closed it 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


14 

in on either side. Here were the show- 
cases, queer instruments, and cabalistic look- 
ing charts for trying the sight ; over the 
high mantel hung a large clock, and in the 
grate below a coal fire flickered and purred 
in a lazy fashion ; and through the half-open 
folding doors Francis had a glimpse into 
what seemed to be a study or library. 

At least a dozen questions were on the tip 
of her tongue, but didn’t get any further. 
For instance, she longed to ask if those cun- 
ning little spectacles on the doll’s head in the 
case near her, were for sale, and if the Spec- 
tacle Man had any children who read the St. 
Nicholas and what the gray cat’s name was, 
for that he had a name she didn’t doubt, he 
was so evidently an important part of the 
establishment. 

He had descended from the directory, 
which was rather circumscribed for one of 
his size, and curled himself comfortably on 
the counter; but instead of going to sleep he 


THE MEETING. 


15 


gently fanned his nose with the tip of his 
tail, and kept his yellow eyes fixed on Frances 
as if he too felt some curiosity about her. 
She was thinking how much she would like 
to have him in her lap when the Spectacle 
Man looked around and said, “ The next 
time your grandmother breaks these frames 
she will have to have some new ones.” 

cc They aren't my grandmother’s, they are 
Mrs. Gray’s. I haven’t any grandmother,” 
she answered. 

“ You haven’t ? Why, that’s a coincidence ; 
neither have I ! ” 

Frances laughed but didn’t think of any- 
thing else to say, so the conversation dropped, 
and the optician fell to humming : — * 

t( The bridge is broke.* * 

They might never have become really ac- 
quainted if, just as he was giving a final 
polish to the glasses, it had not begun to 


rain. 


1 6 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

“ What shall I do ? ” Frances exclaimed, 
rising hurriedly. “ I haven’t any umbrella.” 

The Spectacle Man walked to the win- 
dow, the glasses in one hand, a piece of 
chamois in the other. <f It may be only a 
shower,” he said, peering out ; “ but it is 
time for the equinoctial.” Then, seeing the 
little girl was worried, he asked how far she 
had to go. 

“ Only two blocks ; we are staying at the 
Wentworth, but mother and father were out 
when I left and won’t know where I am.” 

“Well, now, don’t you worry; Dick will 
be in presently and I’ll send him right over 
to the hotel to let them know where you are, 
and get a waterproof for you.” 

This made Frances feel more comfortable ; 
and when, after putting the glasses in their 
case and giving her the change from Mrs. 
Gray’s dollar, he lit the gas in the back par- 
lor and invited her in, she almost forgot the 
storm. 


THE MEETING. 


r 7 

The room was quite different from any 
she had ever been in, and she at once decided 
she liked it. Around the walls were low 
cases, some filled with books and papers, 
others with china and pottery ; from the top 
of an ancient looking chest in one corner a 
large stuffed owl gazed solemnly at her ; the 
mantel-shelf was full of books, and above it 
hung a portrait of Washington. There were 
some plaster casts and a few engravings, and 
beside the study table in the middle of the 
room was an arm-chair which, judging from 
its worn cover, was a favorite resting-place 
of the Spectacle Man. 

“ I have a little writing to do before Dick 
comes in ; can’t I give you a book while I 
am busy ? I have a number of story-books,” 
her host asked. 

Frances thanked him, but thought she’d 
rather look about. <c You seem to have so 
many interesting things,” she said. 

While she walked slowly around the room 


1 8 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

the optician sat down at the table and wrote 
rapidly. cc How does this sound,” he pres- 
ently asked. 

“‘Wanted: Occupants for a small, par- 
tially furnished flat. All conveniences; rent 
reasonable. Apply 432 Walnut Street/ 
You don’t happen to know any one who 
wants a flat, I suppose ? ” 

Frances said she did not. 

“ The lady who had my second story 
rooms was called away by her mother’s 
death, and now she is not coming back. 
With Mark away at school it is really 
very important to have them rented.” 
The Spectacle Man tapped the end of 
his nose with his pen and began to hum 
absent-mindedly : — 

“The bridge is broke and I have to mend it.” 

At this moment a boy with a dripping 
umbrella appeared at the door. He proved 
to be Dick, and was at once despatched to 


THE MEETING. 


i9 


the Wentworth with instructions to ask 
for Mr. John Morrison, and let him 
know his daughter was safe and only wait- 
ing till the storm was over ; and on his 
way back to stop at the newspaper office 
and leave the advertisement. 

<c Dear me ! " said Frances, after he had 
gone, “we might have sent Mrs. Gray's 
glasses ; I am afraid she will be tired wait- 
ing for them. She can't see to do any- 
thing without them, and she is lame too." 

“Well, she is fortunate in having a 
friend to get them mended for her. And 
now I wonder if you wouldn’t like to see 
old Toby," said the optician, taking down 
a funny looking jug in the shape of a very 
fat old gentleman. “ When my grand- 
father died he left me this jug and the 
song about the bridge. Did you ever 
hear it before ? " 

Frances said she never had. 

“ Grandfather used to sing it to me 


20 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


when I was a little boy, and I find it still 
a very good song. When I get into a 
tight place and can’t see how I am to get. 
through, why — ” here he waved his hands 
and nodded his head — 

“ ‘ The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it/ 

and I go to work and try. Sometimes it 
is for other people, sometimes for myself. 
Bridges are always getting broken, — ’tisn’t 
only spectacles.” 

Frances smiled, for though she did not 
quite understand, it sounded interesting; 
but before she had time to ask any ques- 
tions a tall young man entered. <c Why, 
Wink ! what in the world are you doing 
here ? ” he exclaimed. 

“ Oh, daddy dear, I hope you haven’t 
worried ! ” she cried, running to him ; 
“ Mrs. Gray broke her glasses and couldn’t 
read or sew, and I thought I ought to 
have them mended for her, — it wasn’t far 


THE MEETING. 


21 


you know — and then it began to rain so 
I couldn’t get back.” 

“And this is Mr. Clark, I suppose,” 
said Mr. Morrison ; “ let me thank you 
for taking care of my little daughter. And 
now, Wink, put on this coat and your 
rubbers, and let us hurry before mother 
quite loses her mind.” 

When she was enveloped in the water- 
proof, Frances held out her hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Clark,” she said; “I 
hope you will find some nice person to 
rent your flat. Good-by.” 

The Spectacle Man stood in his door 
and watched the two figures till they dis- 
appeared in the misty twilight, then he 
returned to the shop. “ Peterkin,” he said, 
addressing the cat, “ I like that little girl, 
and I suppose I’ll never see her again.” 

Peterkin uncurled himself, stood up on 
the counter, arched his back, and yawned 
three times. 


CHAPTER SECOND. 


A CERTAIN PERSON. 

A day or two after her visit to the opti- 
cian’s, Frances lay curled up on the broad 
window-sill, a thoughtful little pucker be- 
tween her eyes. About fifteen minutes 
earlier she had entered the room where 
her father and mother were talking, just 
as the former said, “As a certain person 
is abroad I see no objection to your 
spending the winter here if you wish.” 

Before she could ask a single question 
a caller was announced, and she had taken 
refuge behind the curtains. 

It was quite by accident that they hap- 
pened to be staying for a few weeks in 
this pleasant town where the Spectacle 
Man lived. They were returning from 


22 


A CERTAIN PERSON. 


2 3 


North Carolina, where they had spent the 
summer, when a slight illness of Mrs. 
Morrison’s made it seem wise to stop for 
a while on the way ; and before she was 
quite well, Mr. Morrison was summoned 
to New York on business, so his wife and 
daughter stayed where they were, waiting for 
him, and enjoying the lovely fall weather. 

They liked it so well they were begin- 
ning to think with regret of the time when 
they must leave, for though really a city 
in size, the place had many of the attrac- 
tions of a village. The gardens around 
the houses, the flowers and vines, the wide 
shady streets, combined to make an atmos- 
phere of homelikeness ; but to Frances’ 
mind its greatest charm lay in the fact 
that once, long ago, her father had lived 
here. At least she felt sure it must have 
been long ago, for it was in that strange 
time before there was any Frances Morrison. 

She had never heard as much as she 


24 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


wanted to hear about these years, although 
she had heard a good deal. There were 
some things her father evidently did not 
care to talk about, and one of these was a 
mysterious individual known as a Certain 
Person. The first time she had heard this 
Certain Person mentioned she had ques- 
tioned her mother, who had replied, “ It is 
some one who was once a friend of father's, 
but is not now. I think he does not care 
to mention the name, dear.” 

After this Frances asked no more ques- 
tions, but she thought a great deal, and her 
imagination began to picture a tall, fierce 
looking man who lurked in dark corners 
ready to spring out at her. Sometimes 
when she was on the street at night she 
would see him skulking along in the shad- 
ows, and would clasp her father’s hand more 
closely. Altogether this person had grown 
and flourished in her mind in a wonderful 


way. 


A CERTAIN PERSON. 


25 


And, she couldn’t tell how, a Certain 
Person was connected in her thoughts with 
<c The Girl in the Golden Doorway.” This 
was a story in her very own story-book, a 
collection of tales known only to her father 
and herself, which had all been told in the 
firelight on winter evenings and afterward 
written out in Mr. Morrison’s clear hand in 
a book bought for the purpose, so that not 
even a printer knew anything about them. 

This particular story, which she had heard 
many times, was of a boy who lived in a 
great old-fashioned house in the country, 
where there were beautiful things all about, 
both indoors and out. The only other 
child in the house was a little girl who 
looked down from a heavy gilt frame above 
the library mantel. The boy, who was just 
six years old, used to lie on the hearth rug, 
gazing up at her, and sometimes she would 
smile and beckon to him as if she wanted 
to be friends. 


26 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


This happened only at nightfall when 
the shadows lay dark in the corners of the 
room and the fire blazed brightly ; at such 
times things that had before been a puzzle 
to him became quite clear. For instance, 
he discovered one evening that what looked 
like the frame of a picture was really a 
doorway belonging to the house where the 
little girl lived, and it was plain that if he 
could only get up there he could find out 
all about her. Once there, he felt sure she 
would take him by the hand and together 
they would go away — away — somewhere ! 
But the mantel was very high, and polished 
like glass. 

One afternoon when he had come in 
from a long drive, and feeling tired was 
lying very still in his usual place, looking 
up at the little girl and the long passage 
that seemed to stretch away behind her, a 
strange thing happened. So unexpectedly 
it sent his heart into his mouth, the girl 


A CERTAIN PERSON. 


27 


stepped out of the doorway ; and then, 
wonder of wonders ! he saw a stairway at 
one side of the chimney-piece where he had 
never noticed one before. 

Daintily holding up her silken skirt, the 
little maid descended and stood beside him. 
Astonished and bewildered, he put out his 
hand to touch her, but with a laugh she 
flitted across the room. 

Seized with the fear that she would escape 
him altogether, the boy started in pursuit. 
In and out among the massive chairs and 
tables they ran, the girl always just out of 
reach, the boy breathless with anxiety. His 
heart quite failed him when she darted 
toward the mantel. Then he remembered 
he could follow ; and indeed she seemed to 
expect it, for she stood still at the top of 
what had grown to be a very long flight of 
steps, and beckoned. He hurried on, but 
the steps were very steep and slippery, and 
try as he would he could not reach the top. 


28 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Suddenly some one opened the library 
door, there was a crash and a clatter, the 
girl disappeared, and the boy heard his 
mother’s voice asking, “Jack, what in the 
world are you doing? ” 

cc I fell down the steps,” he replied, 
picking himself up from among the fire 
irons that had tumbled in a heap on the 
hearth. 

“ What steps ? ” asked his mother. 

He rubbed his eyes : they were not to be 
seen, and the little girl — yes, there she 
was, looking out of the golden doorway, and 
he was sure she shook her finger and 
laughed. He gave up trying to explain — 
grown people are hopelessly stupid at times 
— but he always felt certain that if the 
library door had not opened just when it 
did, he could have caught the little girl. 

“Wasn’t it a pity ! ” Frances always ex- 
claimed at this point. 

“Yes,” her father would reply, “the little 


A CERTAIN PERSON. 


29 


boy lost the chance of a lifetime, for there 
is no knowing what he might not have 
discovered in the house of the golden door- 
way.” 

“ And she never came down again ? ” 

“No, for the boy went away to live not 
long after this, and everything was changed.” 

“ And is the little girl still over the 
library mantel ? ” 

“ No, Wink, she was taken away long 
ago.” 

When the caller left, Frances came out 
of her hiding-place behind the curtains. 
“ Are we going to stay here all winter ? ” 
she asked. 

Mrs. Morrison drew her daughter down 
beside her on the couch where she sat. It 
was hard to believe such a small person the 
mother of this great girl. “You shall hear 
all about it, dearie, and then help us to 
decide,” she said. “ Father has had an offer 
from the Eastern Review . They want him 


3 ° 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


to go to Hawaii, and besides paying him well 
it will bean advantage to him in other ways.” 

“ But can’t we go with you, father ? ” 

“ No, Wink, I am afraid not, for several 
reasons.” 

“ Of course it will be hard for us all, but 
if it seems to be the best thing I am sure 
you and I will be brave and let him go ; ” 
Mrs. Morrison’s voice trembled a little, and 
for a moment she hid her face on Frances’ 
shoulder. 

“ Will you be gone very long ? ” asked 
the little girl. 

“ Several months, it I go. The matter 
is not decided by any means. I do not 
see how I can leave you,” answered Mr. 
Morrison. 

“You must go, Jack; it will be the very 
thing for you. It isn’t only the money, 
dear, or even the opportunity for getting on 
in your work, but you need a change, for 
you haven’t been yourself lately. Frances and 


A CERTAIN PERSON. 


3 1 


I will stay here and be very comfortable, and 
when you come home we’ll have a jubilee.” 

“ And not go back to Chicago ? ” Frances 
asked. 

“ The winters there are too cold for you. 
No, I think we’d better stay here, but not 
in this house,” said her mother. 

“ It will be difficult to find the kind of 
place I shall be willing to leave you in,” 
replied Mr. Morrison. “ What is it you 
are always singing, Frances ? ” he added, for 
as she turned the leaves of a magazine she 
was humming softly to herself. 

“ I don’t know,” she answered laughing, 
then — “Why, yes, I do — it is the song 
of the Spectacle Man, 

t( ‘ The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it,’ 

that is all I know of it. He was telling 
me about it when you came for me. I 
wish I could go to see him again.” 


CHAPTER THIRD. 


GLADYS. 

While they were still talking matters 
over, Gladys Bowen, a little girl who lived 
in the house, came to ask if Frances might 
play with her; and Frances, who had not 
had a playmate of her own age for some 
time, was very ready to go. They had 
once or twice spoken rather shyly to each 
other, and she thought Gladys’s golden curls 
perfectly beautiful. 

c< Would you like to come upstairs and 
see my dolls, or shall we go down to the 
reception room ? ” Gladys asked, adding, 
cc My Uncle Jo owns this house, and he lets 
me go where I please.” 

c< I’d like to see the dolls,” Frances said, 
much impressed by the uncle who owned 
a hotel. 


32 


GLADYS. 


33 


Her companion led the way to a room 
where a lady in an elaborate house-gown 
sat in an arm-chair reading. “ Mamma, I 
have brought Frances to see my dolls,” she 
announced. 

“How do you do, Frances. — Very well, 
Gladys, but I don't want you to worry me. 
You must play in the other room.” Mrs. 
Bowen spoke in a languid tone, and re- 
turned to her book, but she looked up 
again to say, “ That is a pretty dress you 
have on, Frances.” 

The child looked down at the red challis 
she wore, not knowing what reply to make. 

“ But you are stylish, as Gladys is, I 
am thankful to say,” the lady continued. 
“You look well together, you are dark and 
she so fair.” 

“ Come on,” Gladys called impatiently 
from the door, and Frances followed, feel- 
ing that she ought to have said something 
to Mrs. Bowen. 


34 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


<c I’ll show you Marguerite first ; she’s 
my handsomest doll. Uncle Jo gave her 
to me, and she cost twenty-five dollars.” 

Frances caught her breath at the idea of 
such a doll, but was a little disappointed 
when her hostess took from a drawer a fine 
lady, whose hair was done up in a French 
twist, and whose silk gown was made with 
a train. She was certainly very elegant, 
however, and her muff and collar were sure 
enough sealskin, as Gladys explained. 

“ She is beautiful, but I believe I like 
little girl dolls best,” Frances said. 

Gladys brought out others of all varieties 
and sizes, and while her visitor examined 
them, she herself talked on without a pause. 

cc Where did you get your name ? ” she 
asked. 

Frances, who was adjusting a baby’s cap, 
replied that she was named for her great- 
grandmother. 

“ Are you ? How funny ! Mamma named 


GLADYS. 


35 


me for a lady in a book — Gladys Isabel. 
She doesn’t like common names.” 

Frances wondered if Gladys thought her 
name common, and for a moment she 
wished she had been called something more 
romantic. 

“ There is a girl who lives here in the 
winter,” continued the chatterbox, cc whose 
name is Mathilde. Isn’t that funny ? It’s 
French — and she has the loveliest clothes! 
I wish you could see her — she hasn’t come 
yet. And just think ! she has diamond 
earrings. Have you any diamonds ? ” 

Frances shook her head, feeling very in- 
significant beside a girl with a French name 
and diamond earrings. 

“ I have a diamond ring, but mamma 
won’t let me wear it all the time for fear 
I’ll lose it,” said Gladys. cc Haven’t you 
any rings ? ” and she glanced at the plump 
little hands of her guest. 

“ I have one, but it is too small for me 


36 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

now. I don't care very much for rings/' 
was the reply. 

“ Don’t you ? I do. Mamma has ever 
so many. If you won’t tell I’ll tell you 
something,” Gladys went on; “ Uncle Jo 
is going to give me a party at Christmas, 
and if you are here I’ll invite you. It is 
to be just like a grown-up party.” 

“ Do you go to school ? ” Frances asked. 

“ Everyday school ? Yes ; but I don’t 
like it. I haven’t started yet.” 

“ I think I’ll have to go now,” said 
Frances, rising; “ I hope you will come 
to see me, Gladys. I have only one doll 
with me, but I have some games and 
books.” 

“ I don’t care for books, but I’ll come ; and 
if Mathilde is here maybe I’ll bring her.” 

Frances went downstairs with a sober 
face. She had intended to tell Gladys the 
story of The Golden Doorway, and about 
the Spectacle Man, but she had not had a 


GLADYS. 


37 


chance, and now she felt that these things 
would probably seem tame and uninterest- 
ing to a young person of such varied 
experience. 

<c Has my little girl had a good time ? " 
Mrs. Morrison asked. 

“Y-es, mother, Gladys has some of the 
prettiest dolls you ever saw, but they are 
too dressed up to have much fun with, and 
she didn't seem to want to play." 

“ Perhaps she doesn’t know how to have a 
really good time, Wink ; some persons don’t." 

<c I know one thing ; she hasn’t a darling 
mother like you ! ’’ and Frances empha- 
sized her words with an ardent hug. 

<c Very few have, Wink," remarked her 
father, coming in with his hands full of 
papers. 

“ Thank you both for your kind appre- 
ciation," said Mrs. Morrison, laughing. 
“What do you expect to find in those 
papers, Jack?" 


38 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I am going to look up advertisements.” 

“What for, daddy?” Frances asked, 
dancing about on tiptoe. 

“A place for you and mother while I 
run off and leave you. Listen to this : 
c Wanted: Occupants for a small, partially 
furnished flat. All conveniences, terms rea- 
sonable. Apply at 432 Walnut Street.' ” 

“ The Spectacle Man's ! the Spectacle 
Man’s ! ” cried Frances, clapping her hands. 
“ Let's go there, it's lovely ! ” 

“ How do you know ? ” asked her father 
and mother in the same breath, and then 
she explained how he had written the ad- 
vertisement while she was waiting for the 
storm to be over. 

“Partially furnished — it might do. I 
mean, of course, if it is nice,” said Mrs. 
Morrison. 

“ It is too far down town,” objected her 
husband. 

“ Oh, father, no, it isn't ! It is just a 


GLADYS. 


39 


beautiful place, and the Spectacle Man will 
show me his Toby jugs and things, and 
there’s the cat, — please let’s go ! ” 

“ Of course if there is a Toby jug and 
a cat, there’s nothing else to be desired,” 
said Mr. Morrison, gravely, pinching the 
cheek of his enthusiastic daughter. How- 
ever, he promised that bright and early next 
day they would go to look at this flat. 


CHAPTER FOURTH 


THEY LOOK AT A FLAT. 

The house occupied by Mr. Clark the 
optician was old-fashioned and roomy ; 
built in the days when ground was cheap 
and space need not be economized. It 
belonged to his nephew, whose guardian 
he was, and some day, when the hard 
times were over, it was likely to be a valu- 
able piece of property. At present it could 
be rented for little or nothing as a resi- 
dence, and for this reason he had decided 
to live in it himself, taking the first floor 
and turning the second and third into flats. 

The dignified old mansion had the air 
of having stepped back in disdain from 
the hurry and bustle of the street, preserv- 
ing in its seclusion between the tall build- 


40 


THEY LOOK AT A FLAT. 


4i 


ings on either side something of the lei- 
surely atmosphere of other days. 

The optician himself was quite in keep- 
ing with the house. He loved old things 
and old ways ; his business methods were 
those of thirty years ago, and so perhaps 
were most of his patrons. There were 
still many persons who could remember 
the time when he had been joint proprietor 
of the largest jewellery store in the city, but 
times had changed. In some way he had 
been crowded out and half forgotten, much 
as the old house had been. 

He kept the place in the best of order; 
the bit of lawn that lay between the house 
and the street was as thrifty and green as 
care could make it, and was a pleasant sur- 
prise when one came upon it unexpectedly, 
an oasis in the desert of brick pave- 
ment. 

Frances’ bright eyes had noticed, in 
passing, the mammoth pair of spectacles 


42 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


swinging above the veranda, and so when 
she found Mrs. Gray, an old lady who 
had a room near theirs in the hotel, 
lamenting over her broken glasses, she 
had known where to take them. 

The clock struck eleven as the Morri- 
sons entered the shop next morning. The 
sun shone cheerily in on the Spectacle 
Man, who was waiting upon a customer; 
and Peterkin, who had selected the bright- 
est spot to be found, was making his toilet 
in an absorbed manner. 

Mr. Clark bowed and smiled and asked 
them to be seated for a few minutes; but 
Frances, all impatience, could not think of 
keeping still, and, seeing the cat, was pres- 
ently down on the floor beside him. 

“ Do you know, puss,” she whispered, 
stroking him gently, cc that maybe we are 
coming here to live ? ” 

The news evidently tickled him, so 
much so that he sneezed and shook his 


THEY LOOK AT A FLAT. 


43 


head vigorously ; then, as if fearing to be 
misunderstood, he began to purr softly. 

“Come, Frances, Mr. Clark is ready to 
show us the rooms,” her father called ; and 
it is to be hoped Peterkin was not hurt 
by the sudden manner in which he was 
dropped. 

“ This is a nice old place, Jack,” whis- 
pered Mrs. Morrison as they followed 
Frances and the Spectacle Man up the 
stairs. The former was explaining with 
great animation how they had seen the 
advertisement in the paper and she had 
recognized it. “You see, father is going 
away and can't take us, and mother and I 
think we'd like to come here, perhaps,” 
she said. 

“ Well, I had a presentiment I was going 
to find a good tenant, but I did not think 
it would be you,” was his reply. 

The rooms proved to be large and light ; 
the paper and paint were fresh and clean, 


44 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


and what furniture there was was simple 
and new. 

“ I believe it is the very place for us,” 
Mrs. Morrison said, her housewifely eyes 
taking in all the possibilities of cosey com- 
fort. “ It will be a new and charming 
experience ; and as for the Spectacle Man, 
he is simply delightful ! ” 

After showing them through, Mr. Clark 
had left them, and they could hear him 
singing as he went, 

“ The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it.” 

“Yes, this will be a nice sitting room, 
with its windows where, — to quote Frances 
— c The little sun comes peeping in at 
morn ! ’ ” said Mr. Morrison. 

cc And this bedchamber is lovely, and 
the little kitchen — ” 

“We can make candy sometimes, can't 
we, mother ? ” Frances interrupted, dancing 
wildly about. 


THEY LOOK AT A FLAT. 


45 


“ O Jack ! if only you were going to be 
here ; ” Mrs. Morrison turned suddenly to 
the sunny window. 

“You know I’ll not go one step unless 
you are willing, Kate,” her husband said, 
coming to her side. 

“ Don’t be a goose, dear, of course you 
are going.” Her face was hidden against 
his shoulder for a moment, then she turned 
brightly to Frances, who was anxiously in- 
quiring where she was to sleep. 

“ And mother,” she exclaimed, “ such a 
pretty young lady passed through the hall 
just now.” 

“ That is something we must ask about, 
— what other persons are in the house,” 
said her father. 

Frances was not a little surprised and in- 
dignant when, after carrying on what seemed 
to her a long conversation with Mr. Clark 
upon various unimportant subjects, her father 
left with nothing more definite than that 


4 6 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


they were pleased with the rooms and would 
let him know their decision next day. 

<c Aren’t we going to take them ? I 
thought it was all settled ; I don’t under- 
stand,” she said when they were on the street. 

“ Now, Wink, let me ask you some- 
thing. Don’t you honestly think that two 
persons who have lived more than thirty years 
ought to have a little better judgment about 
some things than one who has lived only 
ten ? ” 

“ But I’ll be eleven in February, and — 
well, father, I suppose so, but grown people 
do take so long to think ! ” 

“ It is an interesting old house, and do 
you know, I think that is a Gilbert Stuart 
over the mantel in the back room,” remarked 
Mr. Morrison. 

“ Why, father, it is a George Washington ! 
I’m sure it is,” cried Frances, and couldn’t 
understand why they laughed, till her mother 
explained that they were probably both right, 


THEY LOOK AT A FLAT. 


47 


as Gilbert Stuart had painted a number of 
portraits of Washington. 

It spoke well for the Spectacle Man’s flat 
that they looked no farther that day, but 
there were many things to be taken into con- 
sideration that Frances did not dream of. 
After she was snugly tucked in bed that 
night, her father and mother sat long talking 
over their plans. 

cc I do not like the idea of leaving you 
here without looking up any of my old 
friends,” said Mr. Morrison. 

“ But that is just what we want to avoid. 
I don’t care to meet your friends till you are 
with me. We shall be perfectly comfortable, 
and shall enjoy the experience, and Mr. 
Clark, I know, will be kindness itself,” replied 
his wife. 

“You are as infatuated as Frances; you 
are just two little girls with a new playhouse. 
But if anything should happen — I don’t 
know what — it might be awkward.” 


4 8 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I suppose I know what you mean, Jack ; 
but we could not be suspected of any motive 
in coming here, a certain person being abroad, 
and nothing is going to happen. Who is 
likely to find us out ? Morrison is a suffi- 
ciently common name, and the Spectacle 
Man’s apartment house is, to say the least, 
not conspicuous. You forget we are not so 
important to other people as we are to you. 
The months will soon pass, and we shall be 
together again in some delightful place, and 
you will write your novel and become fa- 
mous, and then — ” 

Her husband lifted to his lips the hand 
he held, just as he used to do when he was 
her gallant young lover, a dozen years ago. 
“ For your sake I wish I might. If only I had 
half your cheerful courage,” he said, adding, 
“ I hope Frances will grow up to be exactly 
like you.” 

“ She is exactly like you, Jack, I am happy 
to say.” 


THEY LOOK AT A FLAT. 49 


As they sat in silence the song of the 
Spectacle Man kept repeating itself in Mrs. 
Morrison’s mind, and it suggested to her the 
broken bridge which separated Jack from so 
much that might have been his. Would it 
ever be mended ? 


CHAPTER FIFTH. 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 

“ I am as sorry as I can be that you are 
going away, I shall miss you so much ; ” 
said Mrs. Gray to Frances and her mother 
when they came in to tell her about their 
plans for the winter. 

Their rooms were across the hall from 
hers, and the acquaintance had begun in 
the elevator, where they often met on the 
way to the dining room. The old lady 
was somewhat crippled with rheumatism and 
moved about with difficulty, so her life was 
rather a lonely one ; and it had given her 
a great deal of pleasure to have Mrs. Mor- 
rison and her little girl drop in every now 
and then to 'chat with her and bring her 
books and papers. Then she could never 


50 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 51 


sufficiently express her gratitude to Frances 
for taking her glasses to be mended. 

“If I hadn’t, I might never have known 
the Spectacle Man, and we shouldn’t have 
found our flat, so I am much obliged to 
you” Frances said, laughing, when Mrs. 
Gray went over it all for the tenth time, 
more or less. 

“ Then perhaps you would have stayed 
here for the winter. I am sorry I let you 
go,” was her answer. 

“ We’ll often run in to see you, Mrs. 
Gray, and sometime you may be able to 
come to see us,” said Mrs. Morrison ; 
adding, “we haven’t many friends, you 
know.” 

Mrs. Gray shook her head. “I can’t get 
out any more ; but as for friends, you’ll 
find them wherever you go.” 

Gladys did not approve of the move, 
and frankly expressed her opinion. “ It 
is such a funny old house, in between the 


52 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


stores. I shouldn’t think you would want 
to live there,” she said. 

“ But you don’t know how nice it is in- 
side,” Frances urged. “ It is going to be 
such fun ; and Mr. Clark has some lovely 
things and the dearest cat ! ” 

“ It seems to me you like very funny 
things,” Gladys remarked. She announced, 
however, that she intended to call. 

What with getting the traveller ready to 
start and moving into their new quarters, 
those were busy days. They were all three 
very cheerful indeed, making a great many 
jokes and talking about next summer, 
when they should be together again, saying 
nothing of the long winter that stretched 
between. 

It was a mistake to think of Hawaii as 
so far away. Had it not been annexed ? 
Two thousand miles from California was 
simply no distance at all in these days. 
When it came to saying good-by it was 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 53 


hard indeed to remember all this, but it was 
gone through with somehow, and one bright 
October day Frances and her mother found 
themselves alone in their new sitting room. 

“ Oh, mother, I wish you wouldn't cry ! ” 
sobbed Frances. 

“ But you are crying yourself,” said Mrs. 
Morrison, half laughing. At this tearful 
moment there came a knock at the door, 
and a long heavy package was handed in. 

“ There must be some mistake,” Mrs. 
Morrison said, drying her eyes and read- 
ing the address, which was, however, unmis- 
takable. 

They made haste to cut the twine, and 
behold, a beautiful rug! “Isn't this like 
that dear, extravagant Jack ? '' she cried. 
cc Isn't it pretty. Wink ? He thought we'd 
need cheering up ! ” 

Chairs and tables must be pushed aside 
at once and the rug put in place. Frances 
had just sat down in the middle of it with 


54 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


great satisfaction, when through the half- 
open door walked the fattest, rosiest baby- 
imaginable, wearing a very clean blue check 
apron and an affable smile. 

“Why, where did you come from ? ” they 
both exclaimed. 

This was evidently something he did 
not care to reveal, for, although he con- 
tinued to smile and gaze about him with 
interest, he made no reply. 

“What is your name, baby ? ” Frances 
asked, holding out her hands. “Dennylee- 
bon,” — or so it sounded. 

“ Do you suppose that is intended for 
English ? ” said Mrs. Morrison. 

“ I don’t know. Make him say some- 
thing else. Baby, can you talk ? ” 

“Tock,” repeated the infant, pointing to 
the mantel. 

“Yes,” cried Frances, delighted, “it is 
a clock. You see, mother, he thought I 
said clock. That is English.” 
































' 














































SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 55 


“ You don't mean it ! But let him 
alone. Wink, and see what he will do." 

The visitor showed plainly that he had 
a mind of his own. He did not wish to 
be petted and kissed, but preferred to walk 
around the room on a tour of investiga- 
tion. Presently he paused before a table 
and remarked earnestly, “ Book." 

“ Can't you find a picture-book for 
him ? " asked Mrs. Morrison. 

There happened to be an old animal 
book in the box they were unpacking, and, 
getting it out, Frances and the baby sat 
together on the new rug and turned the 
leaves, the latter never failing to say, 
“ion," “effunt," “tiger," as the case might 
be, with unvarying correctness and great 
enthusiasm. 

In the midst of this there came a 
modest little tap at the door, and when 
Mrs. Morrison opened it, there stood a 
girl of about Frances' age. Her red calico 


56 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


dress was very fresh, her cheeks as rosy 
as the infant’s, and her flaxen hair was 
drawn tightly back and braided in a long 
tail. 

“ Is the baby here ? ” she asked. 

“ No, no,” came in decided tones from 
the visitor. 

This made them all laugh, even the baby 
himself seeming to think it a good joke. 

“ Can’t he stay for a while ? He is 
good, and we like to have him,” said 
Mrs. Morrison. 

The girl hesitated ; plainly the baby 
had no thought of leaving. “The lady 
who used to have these rooms made a pet 
of him, and he is always running off up 
here,” she explained. 

“ I am glad he came, for my daughter 
and I were feeling lonely. Won’t you 
come in and sit down ? Do you live in 
the house ? ” 

The newcomer accepted Mrs. Morri- 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 57 


son’s invitation rather shyly, looking as 
if she had a mind to carry the baby off 
by main force. Her name, she said, was 
Emma Bond, and she and her two-year- 
old brother lived in the back part of the 
house with their mother, who took care 
of Mr. Clark’s rooms. The baby’s name 
was Robert Lee, but he was commonly 
known as the General, a nickname given 
him by the Spectacle Man, and evidently 
well bestowed. 

After the picture-book had been exam- 
ined from beginning to end twice over, 
the General was, with the aid of some 
candy and much diplomacy, induced to 
accompany his sister downstairs, calling 
“By-by,” and kissing his hand with great 
affability to Frances. 

“Aren’t they the cleanest looking chil- 
dren you ever saw ? ” said the latter, com- 
ing back from the hall, where she had 
gone with their guests. 


58 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ Aren’t they ! I think I shall like 
Emma, she is a nice, sensible, old-fash- 
ioned little girl, and the General is great 
fun. I hope they will come again,” 
replied Mrs. Morrison. 

In the course of the next few days they 
began to feel at home in their new quar- 
ters, and they also made the acquaintance 
of Mrs. Bond, a small woman with a pleas- 
ant but firm face, and such an air of energy 
that no lazy person could exist comfortably 
in her presence. 

She was never known to waste any time. 
With the assistance of a colored boy, 
— a theological student, — who came in 
twice a day and in the time he could spare 
from his Latin and Greek cleaned for 
her, she kept Mr. Clark’s rooms and 
the halls in beautiful order. Her chil- 
dren were always as neat as wax, and her 
busy fingers found time for a little fine sew- 
ing occasionally, which, as a girl, she had 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 59 


learned in the convent school where she 
was educated. 

Mrs. Bond was trying to train her 
daughter in the same industrious ways, 
and one Saturday morning Frances discov- 
ered Emma dusting the show-cases in the 
shop. Stopping to speak to her, she learned 
that this was her daily task, and that on 
Saturdays she dusted the study also. It 
must be very interesting work, Frances 
thought, and the two children found so 
much to talk about that Mrs. Bond pres- 
ently came in search of Emma and 
reproved her for idling. She did not pos- 
itively object to play after lessons were 
learned and other duties attended to, but 
she conveyed the impression to Frances 
that in her opinion a really exemplary 
little girl would care more for her tasks 
than for amusement. 

“ I am so sorry, but I have to go,” Emma 
whispered, as her mother left the room. 


6o 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ Won’t your mother let you come to 
see me some time?” Frances asked. 

“ I guess so, when I haven’t anything 
to do,” answered Emma, who thought 
Frances the most charming little girl she 
had ever seen. 


CHAPTER SIXTH. 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 

It was not long before the Morrisons’ 
apartment blossomed into a charmingly 
homelike place. Even Mrs. Bond, who 
on one of her tours of inspection in the 
wake of Wilson Barnes, the student, had 
been enticed in for a moment, agreed that 
the rooms were very fine, though she her- 
self would not care to have so many 
things to keep clean. 

Their sitting room was the greatest 
achievement. There was the new rug, 
which really was a beauty, and the couch, 
with its plump cushions all covered in a 
marvellous fifteen-cent stuff that looked 
like a costly Oriental fabric, together with 
the books and pictures, which had been 
left packed and ready to be sent to them 
61 


62 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


whenever they should settle down, and 
last of all, in the sunniest corner was a 
beautiful sword fern, a rubber plant, and 
a jar of ivy. 

“ Transients can’t afford many plants, 
but a little greenness is essential to happi- 
ness,” Mrs. Morrison declared. 

The cosey kitchen was presided over by 
Zenobia Jackson, who exactly suited her 
surroundings, being small and neat and 
quick, combining in a most satisfactory way 
the duties of a parlor maid and cook. 

She was a friend of Wilson’s, to whom 
Mrs. Morrison had applied. When asked 
if he knew any one she could get to do 
the work of their small flat, he replied, 
“ Yes, ma’m ; I know a young girl who 
would suit you, but she is going to school 
at present.” 

“ If that is the case, she wouldn’t suit 
at all,” said Mrs. Morrison. 

“Well, she’s thinking of leaving school. 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 63 


Her ma she's sick, and her pa's out of 
work, and their insurance is getting in the 
rear, so Zenobia 'lows she’ll have to get 
a place." 

“ Can she cook ? ” asked Mrs. Morrison. 

“ Yes, ma’m ; her ma's one of the best 
cooks in town." 

“ Her mother has taught her, then, I 
suppose." 

“ No, ma’m ; the best ones ain't taught. 
It comes by nature, and Zenobia is a natu- 
ralist." Wilson spoke with ministerial 
gravity. 

Mrs. Morrison smiled. “ I’d like to 
have her come to see me," she said. 

Wilson promised to let her know, and 
added, “ If you take her, Mrs. Morrison, 
she’ll do her best, and angels can't do 
any better." 

The result was that a few days later 
Zenobia was installed and proved herself 
worthy of her recommendation. 


6 4 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ She does beautifully,” Mrs. Morrison 
wrote to her husband, “ and while I am not 
in a position to assert that angels couldn’t 
do better, I am inclined to believe it.” 

“ Frances, I wish we knew those girls 
upstairs. I meet them so often in the 
hall. One of them — Miss Moore, I think 
she is — is exceedingly pretty.” Mrs. 
Morrison was washing the glossy leaves 
of the rubber plant. 

“ I know them,” her daughter replied, 
as she carefully measured the long bud 
that was about to open. c< The pretty one 
is Miss Sherwin,” she added. “ I know, 
because when Emma and I went up to 
their room with a package that had been 
left downstairs by mistake. Miss Moore 
opened the door, and I heard her say, 
c Here is your dress, Lillian.’ ” 

cc I can’t see how that proves anything. 
How did you know that the one who 
opened the door was Miss Moore ? ” 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 


65 


Frances thought for a moment, “ I know 
now ! The package had Miss Sherwin’s 
name on it. Doesn’t that prove it ? ” 

“ Perhaps it does. Wink, though it seems 
something of a puzzle,” replied her mother. 
“ At any rate, I wish I knew them. I must 
remember to ask Mr. Clark about them ; 
they look lonely.” 

cc Let’s go to see them,” Frances 
suggested. 

“ They were here before we came ; they 
may not wish to know us.” 

“ I should think they would,” Frances 
exclaimed, so earnestly her mother laughed. 

“ So should I, Winkie, but we don’t 
know. Perhaps something will happen to 
make us acquainted.” 

Something did happen, and it was the 
General who brought it to pass. 

Mrs. Bond often remarked that Emma’s 
head never saved her heels, and it was 
quite true; for, although she went about 


66 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


her tasks willingly enough, her thoughts 
had a way of travelling off into a world of 
their own. She had long ago discovered 
this way of escape from the rather dull 
routine of her daily life, but her mother 
declared since the Morrisons came she had 
been worse than ever. And, indeed, the 
life upstairs in those bright rooms seemed 
very strange and delightful to Emma, so 
much so that in thinking about it she 
would forget the sugar bowl, or the tea- 
cups when she set the table, and do all 
sorts of absent-minded things. 

One afternoon, soon after Frances and 
her mother had the conversation about 
their neighbors overhead, the former went 
down to see Emma. 

She found her in the kitchen that was 
as usual tidy to the last degree ; the Gen- 
eral, however, true to the influence of his 
environment, was busy with a tiny broom 
and dustpan. Emma sat in the window 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 


67 


reading, and on the stove something sim- 
mered and bubbled gently. 

“This is a very nice kitchen,” Frances 
remarked, as she walked in. 

Emma closed her book. “ Do you think 
so ? I don’t like kitchens, but your sitting 
room is beautiful. It reminds me of a 
house where I go sometimes for mother ; 
oh, such a lovely place ! ” 

“ Don’t get down ; let me sit beside 
you,” Frances begged, and quickly estab- 
lished herself in the other corner of the 
window-sill. 

“ Mother doesn’t care for pretty things ; 
she says she is thankful if she can be clean,” 
Emma continued, with a sigh. 

cc I think you are very clean,” said the 
visitor, looking around her; “but tell me 
about that beautiful house, won’t you ? ” 
Emma obediently began an animated de- 
scription of it. It was just like a palace, 
she said, with a beautiful garden and con- 


68 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


servatory, and rooms and rooms full of 
lovely things. “ Mother sews sometimes 
for the lady who lives there, and I take 
the work home. I wonder, Frances, if you 
couldn’t go with me next time.” 

“ Look at the General !” cried Frances, 
suddenly, jumping down. 

All unnoticed by the girls he had con- 
trived to set his broom on fire and was now 
waving it aloft in great delight. He had 
no mind to give it up either, and frightened 
by the excited manner in which they rushed 
upon him, he clung to it for dear life, 
filling the house with his shrieks. In the 
struggle a roller towel caught fire and some 
damage might have been done, but for the 
appearance of Miss Moore and Miss Sher- 
win. 

The former seized the baby with a prac- 
tised hand while her companion unfastened 
the roller and let the towel fall to the floor, 
where the fire was easily put out. It was 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 69 

all over when Mrs. Morrison, who had 
heard the screams as she was dressing, 
came hurrying in, followed by Mr. Clark. 
The General sat quiet in Miss Moore’s 
lap, a finger in his mouth, tears still on his 
cheek ; Emma with a dazed expression was 
holding on to all that remained of the 
broom ; and Frances danced around excit- 
edly trying to explain how it happened. 

When Mrs. Bond walked in, everything 
quieted down as if by magic. Explanations 
were needless, her quick eyes took it all 
in : cc Emma wasn’t minding what she was 
about,” she said decidedly. 

The Spectacle Man chuckled to himself 
as they all filed out, leaving her restoring 
order. “ The General is too much for 
Emma,” he remarked ; “ it is odd to see 
how like his mother that baby is already — 
as alert and determined in the pursuit of mis- 
chief as she is in her more important affairs.” 

“ I have a dozen erratic infants not more 


7 o 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


than a year older than the General, at my 
table in kindergarten, so I know something 
about it,” said Miss Moore. 

The excitement had broken the ice, and 
the Morrisons and their third-floor neigh- 
bors went upstairs together chatting socia- 
bly. Miss Sherwin, indeed, had not much 
to say ; but her companion made up for her 
silence, and accepted without hesitation Mrs. 
Morrison’s invitation to come in and make 
her and Frances a call. 

<c I have been wanting to come, but 
Lillian wouldn’t let me,” she said. 

“ It is not fair to say that without giving 
my reason,” put in Miss Sherwin, coloring 
in a way that was most becoming. 

“ I believe she thought you wouldn’t care 
to know us,” said Miss Moore, laughing. 

cc That was a great mistake,” answered 
Mrs. Morrison. cc Frances and I are 
sociable persons, and besides, we are stran- 
gers here.” 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 


7i 


£C So are we, and we came here because 
Mr. Clark is an old friend of my father’s.” 
As she spoke, Miss Moore looked about 
her with frankly admiring eyes. “ I am 
taking the kindergarten course ; and my 
friend is keeping house and amusing her- 
self, and keeping me from dying of home- 
sickness.” 

Mrs. Morrison thought Miss Sherwin, 
with her rather melancholy dark eyes, 
looked much more like a subject for home- 
sickness than her merry companion. In 
the course of the conversation she dis- 
covered that their home was in a Southern 
town, and that Miss Moore, who was the 
oldest daughter in a large family, was study- 
ing kindergarten in order to support her- 
self. What Miss Sherwin was doing was 
not so clear. She had no home ties and 
was free to go where she pleased, and it 
was evident that her friend looked up to 
her with deep admiration, 


72 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


While Mrs. Morrison and Miss Moore 
were talking, Frances and Miss Sherwin 
were making friends over their favorite 
story-books, and before the call was over 
they all had the pleasant feeling of being 
old acquaintances; and the acquaintance 
was not allowed to languish. 

The very next evening Frances and Emma 
in great glee knocked at the door of what 
Miss Moore called their sky parlor, with 
an invitation to a candy pulling. It was 
just the night for a little fun, being Friday 
and stormy, and the young ladies promptly 
accepted. 

Delicious odors were finding their way into 
the sitting room when the guests entered. 
Miss Sherwin looking pretty and pensive in 
her big apron, Miss Moore as flyaway and 
merry as usual. 

Mrs. Morrison met them at the door and 
led the way to the kitchen, where the children 
were watching the kettle that gave forth the 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 


73 


pleasant fragrance. “Frances wanted some- 
thing to do, and as Friday evening is a sort 
of holiday, I thought perhaps our neighbors 
would join us in pulling candy,” she said. 

They made molasses candy first, and while 
this was being pulled Mrs. Morrison made 
some chocolate caramels; and even Miss 
Sherwin was unable to resist the laughing 
and nonsense that went on, and was pres- 
ently taking part in it as merrily as anybody. 

They were sitting around the fire in a 
sociable group enjoying the fruits of their 
labor, when the Spectacle Man knocked at 
the door. He had to come to see Mrs. 
Morrison on business, but when Frances in- 
vited him in to have some candy he did not 
decline. 

“ This looks very pleasant,” he said, sur- 
veying the company, a piece of chocolate in 
his hand. 

“ Sit down, Mr. Clark ; I want to ask you 
something,” said Mrs. Morrison. “ It is 


74 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


about the song Frances is always singing, — 
“ * The bridge is broke — 9 

What is the rest of it ? ” 

“ I will tell you all I know, but that isn’t 
much,” he replied, crossing his legs and look- 
ing into the fire. “ I used to like to hear it 
from my grandfather when I was a child, and 
I found it interested Mark, my nephew, when 
he was a little chap. This is the way it goes. 

u A man was once taking a long journey 
on foot. After walking several hours he 
came to a deep, swift stream over which 
there had once been a bridge, but now it v/as 
not to be seen. On the opposite side of the 
river a man was chopping wood, and the 
traveller called to him to know what had 
become of the bridge. The reply — and 
this is always sung — was: — 

ft ‘ The bridge is broke and I have to mend it, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do. 

The bridge is broke and I have to mend it, 

Fol de rol de riP 


AN INFORMAL AFFAIR. 


75 


“‘How deep is the river?’ the traveller 
then asked. 

“ ‘ Throw in a stone, ’twill sink to the bottom, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri — * etc. 

ccc How can I get across?' was the next 
question. 

“ ‘ The ducks and the geese they all swim over, 

Fol de rol de ri do — * etc. 

“ And that is all." 

“ Doesn't the poor man ever get across ? " 
asked Mrs. Morrison. 

“ I have told you all I know, madam," 
the Spectacle Man answered, with a little 
wave of his hand. 

“ I think there is a story hidden in it, and 
that is perhaps why children enjoy it ; it is 
like having a picture to look at." It was 
Miss Sherwin who spoke. 

“That is a bright idea," said Mr. Clark; 
“ but who will find the hidden story for us ? ” 

“ I believe Miss Sherwin herself can find 
it," suggested Mrs. Morrison. “ Suppose 


y6 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


we give her two weeks to hunt for it, and 
then have a meeting to hear it.” 

“ Oh, please — ” began Miss Sherwin. 

“ Don’t say a word, Lil, you know you 
can,” urged Miss Moore, as her friend tried 
to make herself heard above the chorus of 
approval. 

cc The meeting to be held in my study,” 
added the Spectacle Man. 

“ But suppose I can’t do it,” cried Miss 
Sherwin. 

“ Father could, if he were here,” put in 
Frances ; “ he is splendid for stories ! ” 

“Is he the John Chauncey Morrison who 
writes so charmingly ? ” asked Miss Sherwin. 

cc Why, do you know him ? ” exclaimed 
Frances. 

“ No, but I have read his stories.” 

“ I think he writes the nicest ones in the 
world,” said the little girl. 

cc But we don’t expect everybody else to 
think so, Wink,” her mother added, laughing. 


CHAPTER SEVENTH. 


A PORTRAIT. 

One pleasant afternoon Emma came to 
ask if Frances might go with her to carry 
home some sewing her mother had finished. 

Mrs. Morrison looked a little doubtful, 
but, before she could speak, Frances ex- 
claimed : <c Do please say yes, mother. It 
is a great lovely house, and I do so want to 

• . yy 

see it. 

cc What do you know about it ? ” asked 
her mother. 

“ Emma has told me. May I go ? It is 
such a lovely day.” 

£C I am not sure that it is quite the thing 
for two little girls to go so far alone.” 

c< But we'll take care of each other, and 
— it seems to me that what you want to 
do is never the thing!” Frances said im- 
patiently. 


77 


78 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Her mother laughed ; “ I have known 
other persons who thought that. Who 
lives in this wonderful house ? ” she asked. 

££ Mrs. Marvin, but she is not at home 
now ; there is no one there but the house- 
keeper,” replied Emma. 

“ If I let you go you must promise not 
to stay any longer than is necessary for 
Emma’s errand.” 

They both agreed eagerly to this, and 
Emma ran down to get ready. 

££ You mustn’t turn into a little Bohe- 
mian, Wink,” Mrs. Morrison said, kissing 
the rosy face under the big hat. 

££ I don’t know what it is, so I guess I 
couldn’t turn into it,” laughed Frances, as 
she followed Emma. 

The two children were in a gale of de- 
light over their expedition, and, although 
they meant to be very dignified, found it 
impossible to walk more than a few steps 
without breaking into a skip. 


A PORTRAIT. 


79 


cc I wish my hair was like yours,” Emma 
said, looking admiringly at her compan- 
ion's waving brown locks. 

cc But braids aren’t half so much bother. I 
have to wear mine this way because daddy 
likes it; and if you want to, you know, you 
can put your hair up on kids. That is what 
Gladys Bowen does ; hers doesn’t curl one bit.” 

“ Gladys goes to our school, and I don’t 
like her,” remarked Emma. 

“ Why not ? Don’t you think she is 
pretty ? ” 

“Yes; but she is so proud of herself. 
She doesn’t like to go with me because my 
clothes aren’t as nice as hers, — I know.” 

“She gets that from her mother,” Fran- 
ces said sagely. “ Whenever I go there 
Mrs. Bowen asks me who made my dress 
or something.” 

“ I know I don’t have very pretty dresses, 
but my mother hasn’t time,” said Emma, 
rather sorrowfully. 


8o 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I think you always look nice, Emma, 
and I like you better than I do Gladys.” 

“ Oh, Frances! do you really? Then I 
shan’t mind,” cried Emma. 

She was supremely happy at having 
Frances for a companion on her walk, and 
at the prospect of showing her this wonder- 
ful house ; but when at length they paused 
before the tall iron gate, she was seized with 
the fear that it might not seem very grand 
to one who had seen so much of the world. 

Frances’ critical eye was pleased, how- 
ever ; “ I really think it does look like a 
palace,” she said, with the air of having 
lived among palaces. 

It was a somewhat imposing mansion, 
with a row of graceful columns across the 
front, and a broad flight of steps leading to 
the entrance. It stood in the midst of a 
beautiful green lawn on which were a few 
fine old trees and shrubs. 

“Just wait till you see the inside,” said 


A PORTRAIT. 


81 


Emma, delightedly, as they stood before the 
stately door ; but alas ! when it was opened 
the hall was seen all dismantled ; evidently 
house-cleaning was going on. 

After some hesitation the servant showed 
them into a room which was, like the hall, 
in disorder. It seemed to be a library, but 
the furniture was all covered, the floor was 
bare, and the sun streamed in through un- 
curtained windows. The most prominent 
object in the room was a picture which 
hung over the mantel, and this at once 
caught Frances' attention. 

It was the portrait of a girl apparently 
about her own age, whose sunny eyes 
smiled down in the friendliest way. Her 
brown hair curled loosely over her shoul- 
ders ; her dress, of some soft, silken brocade 
of warm, rich colors, was quaintly made and 
fell almost to her feet; her neck and arms 
were bare, and her dimpled hands clasped 
lightly before her. There was a grace and 


82 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


buoyancy in the pose which was very 
charming; Frances was enchanted. 

“ Isn’t she lovely ! Who is she, do you 
suppose ? ” she asked ; but Emma could tell 
her nothing about it, she had never been 
in this room before. 

“ I believe she is like you, Frances,” she 
said, looking critically at the picture. 

“ I am sure I am not half so pretty as 
that! She makes me think of something — 
I don’t know exactly what,” and Frances 
wrinkled her brow in a puzzled way. She 
was completely fascinated, and continued to 
gaze at the portrait all the while Emma was 
talking to the woman who came to see her 
about the work, hearing nothing till her 
own name caught her ear. 

“It is some relative of Miss Frances,” 
was what she heard, evidently in reply to 
a question from Emma. 

As soon as they were on the street she 
inquired who Miss Frances was, and Emma 


A PORTRAIT. 


83 


said she thought she was Mrs. Marvin, the 
lady who owned the house. “ She is com- 
ing home before long, and they are getting 
ready for her,” she added. 

“ I should like to have that picture,” said 
Frances, with a sigh. “Emma, do you 
know what a Bohemian is ? ” 

“ I know r what the 4 Bohemian Girl ’ is ; 
it is music.” 

“ It can't be that, for mother said father 
wouldn’t like it if I turned into one.” 

As Frances was unbuttoning her shoes 
that night she suddenly exclaimed, “ Why, 
it is the little girl in the golden door- 
way ! ” 

“ What is ? ” her mother asked. 

“ I mean that is what the portrait re- 
minded me of. It has just come into my 
head. Isn’t it funny ? ” 

“ Almost any portrait of a little girl might 
suggest it, I should think,” said Mrs. 
Morrison. 


8 4 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I wish you could see her, mother. Do 
you think I can go again with Emma 
sometime ? I do want to see her once 
more.’' 

“ I don’t know, dear.” 

“ Mother, is it being a Bohemian to want 
to go ? ” 

Mrs. Morrison laughed. “Not exactly. 
Wink. It is difficult to explain, but a 
Bohemian is perhaps a person who habitu- 
ally does what is not c the thing.’ ” 

“That must be fun,” said Frances. 
There was silence for a long time, then 
she asked, “ Mother, aren’t you glad a 
certain person is abroad ? ” 

Mrs. Morrison looked at her in surprise. 
“ What do you mean ? ’’ she said. 

“ Oh, I was just thinking ! ” 

“ But what put it into your head to think 
of a certain person ? ” 

“Well, the girl in the golden doorway 
always makes me think of him ; and you 


A PORTRAIT. 85 

know, mother, father said he didn’t mind 
leaving us here because he was abroad.” 

“ You have been drawing on your imag- 
ination, Wink, you can’t have understood 
father ; but now you must go to bed and 
not talk any more.” 


CHAPTER EIGHTH. 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 

An atmosphere of great sociability per- 
vaded the quaint room that the Spectacle 
Man called his study, when on Friday 
evening, two weeks after the candy pulling, 
his expected guests arrived. 

He had closed his shop an hour earlier 
than usual, and spent the time in getting 
out certain treasures of china and silver, 
and placing them where they could be seen 
to the best advantage. When the lamps 
were lighted, the hearth brushed, and the 
big Japanese bowl heaped up with apples 
and grapes, he paused and looked around 
him with satisfaction. 

He was reflecting how pleasant it was 
to be giving a party, when the hall door 
opened to let in Peterkin and closed again 
86 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 87 


in what might have seemed a mysterious 
manner but for the sound of stifled laughter 
on the outside. On the inside Peterkin 
stood looking cross-eyed in a vain endeavor 
to see the frill that adorned his neck. 

“ So they have dressed you for the occa- 
sion, my friend,” remarked his master ; “ it 
must recall the days when Mark was at 
home.” 

A few minutes later Emma and Frances 
appeared, looking very demure and bring- 
ing with them Gladys, who, happening in in 
the afternoon, had been invited to stay and 
hear the story. The rest of the party soon 
followed, and Mr. Clark's face beamed with 
pleasure as he stepped briskly about getting 
every one seated. The children chose the 
sofa at the side of the fireplace, where they 
sat, three in a row with Frances in the 
middle, until Miss Moore begged to know 
if there was not room for her, and of course 
there was. 


88 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I am afraid you are trying to excite 
our envy, Mr. Clark,” Mrs. Morrison said, 
touching a little dish of old Wedgwood. 

“ I have a few odds and ends of things,” 
was his reply ; “ but most of what you see 
belongs to my nephew, Mark Osborne. A 
great-aunt left him her property when she 
died, this house, and a good deal of what 
Mark himself disrespectfully calls plunder.” 

“You have never told us about the 
Toby jug,” put in Frances. “ Does that 
belong to Mark ? ” 

“ No, that is my own, and sometime I’ll 
tell you all I know about it ; but now we 
want to hear Miss Sherwin’s story. That 
is the first business of the evening ; ” and, 
his guests being seated to his satisfaction, 
the Spectacle Man crossed his knees and 
prepared to listen. 

“ I am not sure that it is at all interest- 
ing,” said the young lady, as all eyes turned 
toward her. “ Shall I read it or tell it ? ” • 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 89 


“Tell it, please,” cried the children in a 
chorus. 

So she began, at first a little timidly, 
and with a glance now and then at her 
paper, but gaining courage as she went on. 

“I have called it,” she said, “‘The Story 
of the Missing Bridge/ 

“ Once upon a time a young man set 
out on a journey. The tender beauty of 
the springtime was upon the grass and 
trees, the wheat fields were turning from 
gold to rose, and the sky was a soft, deep 
blue. 

“He was a sturdy young fellow and car- 
ried a light heart, as one could tell from 
the smile in his eyes and the merry tune 
he whistled as he strode along. And he 
had reason to be happy, for on the next 
day at sunset he was to be married to the 
fairest girl in all the country round. 

“ After a time the path he followed left 
the open fields and entered the cool, dim 


9 ° 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


forest, where all was so still and peaceful 
that involuntarily he changed his tune to 
one more grave. 

<c A truly happy heart is certain to be 
a kind one, and, eager though he was to 
reach his journey’s end, he paused once 
and again to lend a helping hand. Now 
it was to a peddler who was vainly trying 
to piece together the broken strap that had 
held his pack, again to restore a young 
bird to its nest, and then to release a white 
rabbit which had caught its foot in a trap 
and was moaning piteously. 

“ These incidents delayed him somewhat, 
and it was late in the afternoon when 
he reached the river several miles beyond 
which lay his destination. It was a wild 
and treacherous stream that rushed down 
from the hills, Doiling and bubbling over 
rocks and between high, precipitous banks. 
Many years Detore a strong bridge had 
been thrown across it at the point where 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 91 


the path emerged from the forest, but to- 
day, to his utter surprise and bewilderment, 
there was no bridge to be seen. His jour- 
ney was brought to a sudden stop. 

“ He looked about him ; could he have 
missed his way ? This was impossible, he 
had travelled it too often. On the other 
side of the river he saw a man chopping 
wood, and presently called to him to 
know what had become of the bridge. 

“ ‘ The bridge is broke and I have to mend it, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do. 

The bridge is broke and I have to mend it, 

Fol de rol de ri.’ 

“This was the man’s reply, sung in a merry 
rollicking tune as he continued his work. 

cc c How deep is the stream ? ’ asked the 
traveller. 

« « Throw in a stone, ’twill sink to the bottom, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do — ’ 

“ c How can I get across ? ’ 

t( ‘ The ducks and the geese they all swim over, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do — ’ 


92 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


came across the stream in the same mock- 
ing tune. 

“ Angry and almost in despair, the young 
farmer sat down beneath a tree to consider 
what was to be done. 

<c The secret of all his trouble was this. 
In an old red stone castle, the turrets of 
which were just visible above the trees on 
the other side of the stream, there lived a 
magician who had long had his eye upon 
the beautiful maiden who was the young 
man’s promised bride. To win her he 
appeared as a wealthy middle-aged suitor, 
ready to lay all his riches at her feet, his 
real character being carefully concealed ; but 
all his arts had been plied in vain ; no 
gold or gems or promises of future splen- 
dor could turn her heart from her young 
lover. Her parents, however, were inclined 
to look with favor upon the magician’s 
suit, and their daughter was made most 
unhappy by their reproaches. 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 93 


“ The last resort of the magician was to 
insinuate doubts of her lover’s faithfulness ; 
and after long and careful scheming, with 
her father and mother as allies, a promise 
was wrung from the maiden that, if the 
bridegroom failed by so much as an hour 
to appear at the appointed time, she would 
wed his rival. So sure was she of her 
lover, so ignorant of the magician’s power. 

“ It now only remained to hinder the 
coming of the bridegroom. This the magi- 
cian wished to contrive in such a way that 
the young farmer should arrive upon the 
scene just too late, and that he himself 
might have the exquisite pleasure of wit- 
nessing his despair. This was not without 
its difficulties, for the forest that extended 
almost to the water’s edge was inhabited 
by fairies who were well disposed toward 
mortals, and took frequent delight in frus- 
trating the schemes of the evil-minded 
magician. 


94 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“He therefore set himself to work to 
win their good will, and after establishing 
friendly relations went to the queen with 
what seemed an innocent request. An 
enemy of his was about to pass through 
the wood, and it was all-important that 
he should be hindered from crossing the 
river until after a certain hour. All he 
asked of the fairies was the promise that 
they would not reveal the plan by which 
he meant to accomplish this. The prom- 
ise was readily given, for what possible 
harm could come to any one through being 
detained on the bank of the river for a 
few hours ? 

“ The fairies often amused themselves 
by trying the temper of those who passed 
through the forest, and the peddler, the 
bird, and the rabbit had all been contrived 
to test the kindliness of the chance trav- 
eller ; and by his quick response to these 
calls for help the young farmer had won 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 95 


their favor. So now, as he sat at the foot 
of the oak tree almost ready to weep in his 
despair, he heard a tiny voice singing : — 
tf ‘ The bridge is broke and you’ll have to mend it, 
Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do.’ 

cc c If some kind friend would only tell 
me how ! ’ he exclaimed. 

ccc Is it then so necessary to your hap- 
piness ? * asked the voice ; and looking all 
about, he at length discovered a little crea- 
ture sitting on a toadstool just at his feet. 
In her hand she held a large leaf which 
till now had served to hide her from his 
view. 

“ Having heard that the wood was the 
abode of fairies, he was not surprised; and 
in the hope that they would be able and 
willing to help him, he told his story. 
The fairy listened intently, marvelling at 
the magician’s craftiness. 

“ c And when must you be there ? * she 
asked. 


9 6 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“‘Not one minute later than sunset to- 
morrow. I set out a day sooner than 
needful because of a mysteriously worded 
message I received, warning me to make all 
haste lest I lose my bride/ was the reply. 

“ c You have an enemy/ said the fairy, 
‘but we may be able to help you. You 
must wait the hour of audience, which is 
on the stroke of midnight;’ with this she 
disappeared. 

“ The young man, left alone, seemed to 
hear all about him mocking voices sing- 
ing:— 

“ ‘The ducks and the geese they all swim over — ’ 

and again and again he went to the water’s 
edge, resolved to attempt to cross on the 
rocks, but the sight of the wild torrent 
told him it would be certain death. 

“ As night came on he at length fell 
into a troubled sleep with his head against 
the trunk of the oak tree. He was aroused 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 97 


by soft music and twinkling lights, and be- 
held before him, ranged in a semicircle, the 
fairy queen and her attendants. The queen 
addressed him : — 

“ c Mortal, we have heard your story 
from Sadonia, one of our ladies, and, as 
you have proved yourself kind and true- 
hearted, we would help you ; but we are 
bound by a sacred vow not to reveal the 
secret of the bridge until sunset to-mor- 
row/ 

“ c Ah, then it will be too late ! * cried 
the young man. 

“ One of the attendant fairies now 
stepped out and knelt before the queen. 
It was the one called Sadonia, with whom 
he had spoken. 

ccc Your Majesty remembers/ she said, 
c that for a certain fault I was condemned 
to take the form of a white rabbit, and 
with my foot in a trap wait to be released 
by some kind traveller. When I was in 


H 


9 8 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


despair, this mortal freed me, and I ask 
that I may show my gratitude now by aid- 
ing him/ 

“ c Can this be done without breaking the 
vow which binds us all ? ’ asked the queen. 

<£C Your Majesty, I promise neither by 
word or sign to reveal the secret of the 
bridge. I shall only ask him to obey me 
in a single command. The result rests 
with himself/ 

“ The queen was silent for a moment, 
then she said, c Is this mortal courageous 
enough, is his love deep enough, to keep 
him unfaltering in the face of death ? * 

“ c Death met in trying to reach the one 
I love will be far better than life without 
her ! ’ cried the young man. 

“ c Then/ said the queen, c Sadonia is 
permitted to use all her powers to aid 
you, but without revealing by word or 
sign the secret of the bridge/ She waved 
her wand, and in a breath lights and fairies 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 99 


disappeared and he was left alone. Not 
alone, for he heard Sadonia singing : — 

“ * The ducks and the geese they all swim over — * 

and there, dimly seen in the moonlight, she 
sat on a toadstool, wrapped in a mantle 
of green. 

£££ It is time, mortal, for you to be up 
and away. In yonder red castle lives a 
magician ; it was he you saw cutting wood 
— this is the hour when he sleeps. Is 
your courage strong ? Are you ready to 
do the impossible ? * While she spoke the 
young man sprang to his feet. 

££ £ Do you see the star straight before 
us in the heavens?’ she asked. ‘Keep your 
eyes fixed upon it, and think of her who 
is now dreaming of you; then if you obey 
me, all will be well.’ 

££ She led him to the edge of the cliff, 
below him was the rushing stream ; £ Look 
at the star and go on/ she cried, 

ILoFC. 


100 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“For one instant he hesitated. Go on? 
Where would the next step take him ? 
Beneath were the rocks and the foaming 
torrent, but above him was the glowing 
star. He stepped bravely out. Louder 
and louder roared the torrent, brighter 
and brighter burned the star, firm and 
solid was the mysterious path. Confi- 
dence grew as he went on, his heart full of 
a great joy, and presently he felt the turf 
under his feet ; the stream was crossed ! 

“ As he paused to look back the truth 
flashed upon him : the bridge was where 
it had always been, but some strange spell 
had made it invisible ! 

“ He went on his way, and all around 
him he seemed to hear fairy voices sing- 
ing : — 

“ ‘ The ducks and the geese they all swim over, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de ri do — * 

He stopped and, lifting his hat, said softly, 
‘ Thank you, Sadonia ! ’ and hoped she heard. 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE, ioi 


“ On the next day the maiden and her 
lover had a joyous wedding, and the evil- 
minded magician slunk away in a rage to 
his castle, having discovered that love is 
stronger than magic ; for no evil power 
can destroy the bridge between true and 
loving hearts, and faith and courage can 
always find the way.” 

“ Well ! ” exclaimed Mr. Clark, as Miss 
Sherwin paused, with a very becoming 
color in her cheeks, “ who would have 
thought there was such a story hidden 
away in my old song.” 

“ I am so pleased that we asked her to 
do it,” said Mrs. Morrison, smiling across 
the table at the story-teller. “ I had my 
suspicions before, “and now they are con- 
firmed,” she added. 

“ I am just proud of you, Lil,” said 
Miss Moore, beaming on her friend. 

“ I think it is a lovely story, but couldn’t 


i02 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


you have more about the fairies, Miss Sher- 
win ? ” Frances asked. 

“And about the wedding and what the 
bride had on,” suggested Gladys. 

“ But did you really make it all up ? ” 
inquired Emma. 

The young lady laughed. “No, I only 
found it between the lines of the song, 
and I certainly think it can be improved.” 

“The moral is such a fine one,” remarked 
Mrs. Morrison. 

“ That faith and courage can always find 
a way — yes, isn't it, if one could only live 
up to it,” said Miss Moore. 

“ It has given me a great deal to think 
about,” added the Spectacle Man. “ The 
bridge is broke — but faith and courage 
will find the way; yes, I like it,” and he 
nodded his head emphatically. 

“ I thought morals weren't interesting,” 
said Frances, at which they all laughed, 
and Miss Sherwin said she hoped she had 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 103 


not made hers too prominent. “ I feel very 
grateful to you for liking it/* she added. 

“ I want you to elaborate it a little and 
send it to The Toung People s Journal ,” 
Mrs. Morrison said. 

Miss Sherwin shook her head, but Miss 
Moore declared she would see that it was 
done. 

Peterkin, who had been completely for- 
gotten in the interest of the story, created 
a sensation just here by catching one of 
his sharp lower teeth in his frill, thereby 
causing temporary lockjaw. He was 
promptly released by Miss Moore, who 
declared he should not be dressed up again. 

After he had gone into seclusion under the 
sofa, and the rest of the Company were eating 
grapes and apples, Mr. Clark took down 
the Toby jug from the mantel shelf. 

“ It seems hardly right to tell another 
story to-night after the beautiful one we 
have listened to,” he said, “ but this is a 


104 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


very short one, and I promised Frances. 
This brown ware is called Rockingham, 
and you see how the likeness of a very fat 
old gentleman is embossed upon it. It 
is said that there once lived a jolly toper 
named Toby Fillpot. In the course of 
time he died and was buried, and then, 
according to an old drinking song : — 

** * His body when long in the ground it had lain. 

And time into clay had resolved it again, 

A potter found out in its covert so snug. 

And from part of fat Toby he formed this brown jug.* 

In fact, I believe he made a number of them, 
and dedicated them to friendship, mirth, and 
mild ale.” 

“ It seems to suggest Dickens ; doesn’t 
he somewhere mention a Toby jug? ” asked 
Mrs. Morrison. 

“ I don’t remember, but it is likely,” 
answered Mr. Clark. 

“ Was your grandfather an Englishman ? ” 
Miss Sherwin asked. 


THE STORY OF THE BRIDGE. 105 


“ Yes, he was English and my mother was 
French.” 

“ I was sure there was French somewhere,” 
said Mrs. Morrison. 

The children thought the jug very funny 
and interesting, but Frances did not want to 
touch it after she had heard the story. 

“ It might really be true,” she said, putting 
her hands behind her. 

“ Is this supposed to be one of the origi- 
nals ? ” asked Miss Moore. 

“ Well, that is as you choose to believe. 
It is over one hundred years old, at any 
rate,” was Mr. Clark’s reply. 


CHAPTER NINTH. 


FINDING A MORAL. 

In spite of her disapproval of the place 
where the Morrisons had gone to live, Gladys 
was very often there. She liked Frances, 
and at the house of the Spectacle Man there 
seemed never to be any lack of something to 
do. There were glorious games of cc I spy” 
in the halls when Emma was off duty, or 
visits to the studio where Miss Sherwin illus- 
trated her stories and was delighted to have 
them pose for her, or if it were a rainy after- 
noon Mr. Clark did not object to their com- 
ing into the shop. He kept some glasses 
especially to lend to them on these occasions, 
and if business happened to be very dull he 
would entertain them with stories of his 
childhood, of which they never tired. Any 
196 


FINDING A MORAL. 


107 


chance customer must have been amused at 
the sight of three little girls in spectacles, 
seated in a row listening to the old man. 

Gladys tyrannized over Emma and patron- 
ized her by turns, the latter being too timid 
to resent it openly ; and Frances enjoyed 
playing the part of protector and defender. 
Naturally this state of affairs sometimes led 
to war, for Frances was quick-tempered and 
impulsive, and Gladys very stubborn. 

One afternoon Mrs. Morrison went out, 
leaving the three children deeply interested 
in a new game. Everything went smoothly 
until Emma, who was sometimes rather slow 
in understanding things, made a wrong play 
that resulted in Gladys’s defeat. When this 
was discovered Gladys in the excitement of 
the moment accused her of cheating, where- 
upon Emma began to cry and Frances be- 
came very angry. 

“ She didn’t cheat, Gladys Bowen, you 
know she didn’t ; and you haven’t any right 


108 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

to say so ! ” she exclaimed, with blazing 
eyes. 

cc She did,” asserted Gladys, with a dogged 
conviction in her tone that infuriated Frances, 
and sweeping the dominoes from the table she 
cried : — 

“ I’ll never play with you again, never !” 

“ No, you will never have a chance,” was 
the cool reply. “ I won’t play with either of 
you ; and I’d be ashamed of myself if I were 
you, Frances.” 

“ Oh, never mind ! ” urged Emma, aghast 
at the scene. 

“ I will mind. She knows it is a story — 
and — ” Frances' could get no further, her 
tears choked her, and rushing from the room 
she shut the door behind her. 

Mrs. Morrison, coming in, found Gladys 
putting on her things with an air of injured 
innocence quite impressive, while Emma 
stood helplessly looking at her. The domi- 
noes lay scattered on the floor. 


FINDING A MORAL. 


109 


“ Where is Frances ?” she asked. 

“ In the other room ; she’s mad,” Gladys 
explained briefly. 

Mrs. Morrison knew it would be useless 
to ask questions at this stage, so she only 
said she was sorry, and waited till Gladys 
left, then went to find her daughter. 

Frances was lying on the bed crying con- 
vulsively. 

“ What is the matter ? ” her mother asked 
gently. 

The child sat up, exclaiming between her 
sobs, “ Gladys is so hateful. She said 
Emma cheated — and it’s a story — and 
I’ll never play with her again!” 

“ Oh, my little girl ! I am so sorry,” was 
all Mrs. Morrison said, as she left the room. 

Sorry about what? Frances wondered 
as her anger cooled. Because Gladys had 
been so hateful ? or was it because she had 
been in a passion ? — but then she had a right 
to be angry. As she lay quiet for a while, 


I IO 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


feeling languid, now the storm had passed, 
a sense of shame stole over her. 

Presently she went softly into the sit- 
ting room. It was growing dark, and her 
mother sat alone among the cushions of 
the couch ; Frances nestled down beside 
her, and there in the firelight and the still- 
ness she couldn’t help feeling sorry, even 
though she still felt sure she had a right 
to be angry. 

She wished her mother would speak, but 
as she did not, Frances asked, “Don’t you 
think Gladys was very unkind?” 

“ She ought to have been very certain 
of the truth of what she said, before she 
accused any one of cheating.” 

“ I think so too ; and I had a right to 
be angry.” She began to feel quite cer- 
tain of this. 

“ I have been talking it over with 
Emma,” said Mrs. Morrison, “and I find 
she did not understand the game. She 


FINDING A MORAL. 


hi 


really played as Gladys said, but she did 
it by mistake.” 

cc Did she ? But Gladys ought to have 
known Emma wouldn’t cheat.” 

££ And of course there was nothing for 
you to do, but throw down the dominoes 
and accuse Gladys of telling a story ? ” 

tc But, mother — ” Frances hesitated. 

££ Suppose you had told Gladys that 
there must be some mistake, and then had 
tried to find out what it was.” 

££ But I was so provoked.” 

££ Yes, and you lost your self-control. 
You let yourself be ruled by your temper. 
It is sometimes right to be angry, but it is 
never right to be in a passion.” 

££ Don’t you think I am getting better 
of my temper?” Frances asked meekly. 

££ Yes, dear; I have thought so lately, 
and it was right for you to want to defend 
Emma ; but to throw the dominoes on the 
floor, to be in such a fury — my darling, 


I 12 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


it makes me afraid for you ! You might 
sometime do something that all your life 
would be a sorrow to you. God meant 
you to rule your feelings and passions, not 
be ruled by them. You are like a soldier 
who has surrendered to the enemy he might 
have conquered.” 

“ I’ll ask him to forgive me,” Frances 
whispered. 

“You know father and I want our 
little girl to grow into a sweet, gracious 
woman — ” 

“Just like you,” Frances interrupted, 
with her arms around her mother’s neck. 

“ No, not just like me,” answered Mrs. 
Morrison, smiling ; “ you must be your 
own self, Wink. I have tried not to spoil 
you, but of course I have made mistakes, 
and now you are getting old enough to 
share the responsibility with me.” 

“ Do you think you ought to punish 
me, mother ? ” 


FINDING A MORAL. 


1 *3 

“ Dear, I think the punishment will be 
the trying to set things right again.” 

Nothing more was said on the subject 
that evening, but the next day Frances 
came to her mother with a bright face ; “ I 
have found out what it means,” she said. 

“ What what means ? ” Mrs. Morrison 
asked. 

“ The story of the bridge. You know 
Gladys is mad with me and won’t come 
here any more — Emma says she said she 
would never speak to me again — and that 
is a broken bridge and I have to mend 
it ; but I don’t know how,” she added. 

cc Perhaps you can find a way if you 
try,” replied her mother, thinking it best 
to let her solve her own problems. 

All day Frances’ thoughts kept going 
back to the unfortunate quarrel, and even 
when she was not thinking about it she 
was not happy. The storm clouds hung 
low and made the atmosphere heavy. 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


114 

At twilight she slipped downstairs and 
peeped into the study where Dick had just 
lit the lamp and Peterkin lay stretched at 
his ease before the bright fire. She stole 
in and sat beside him on the rug and 
stroked him softly. He purred gently, 
looking up in her face with so much wis- 
dom in his yellow eyes she felt like tell- 
ing him about the trouble. 

Presently the Spectacle Man came with 
the evening paper, and was surprised and 
pleased to see her. 

“ Mr. Clark,” she began, “ I have a 
broken bridge to mend.” 

“ Is that so ? I hope it will not give 
you much trouble.” 

Frances sighed and put her face down 
on Peterkin’s soft coat for a moment. “ I 
am afraid it will,” she said, and then she 
told the story. 

The Spectacle Man listened gravely. “ 1 
don’t believe the bridge is really broken,” 


FINDING A MORAL. 


1 *5 

he said ; “ it is only invisible beneath the 
clouds of anger and unkindness.” 

Frances drew a very deep breath. “Then 
what can I do ? ” she asked. 

“ How was it in the story ? ” 

“ But the young man had a fairy to help 
him.” 

“ I don’t think you need one ; love and 
courage can find a way,” said Mr. Clark. 

Frances went upstairs very soberly. 
“ Mother, I believe I’ll write to Gladys,” 
she said, going at once to her desk. It 
took a good deal of time and thought, but 
it was finished at last, and she felt a weight 
lifted from her heart as she put it in the 
envelope. This is what she wrote : — 

“Dear Gladys: I am sorry I behaved so 
the other day. I was mad because you 
said Emma cheated, and I thought I had 
a right to be; but I know now I ought not 
to have been in a passion. It was a mis- 


n6 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


take ; Emma did play wrong, but she didn’t 
know any better. Gladys, I have found 
the moral of the story. The bridge between 
you and me is invisible because of the 
clouds of anger. I want to find it again, 
don’t you ? 

“ Your friend, 

“ Frances Morrison.” 

This note was despatched by Wilson, 
and bright and early next day Gladys an- 
swered it in person. She went to Frances 
and kissed her. “ I am not mad with you 
any more,” she said ; “ it was nice of you 
to write that note, and I am sorry I said 
Emma cheated.” 

After this, Frances was as merry as a 
cricket, and went about singing : — 

“ The bridge is broke and I have to mend it,” 

till her mother was forced to beg for a 
little variety. 

Meanwhile the story of “The Missing 


FINDING A MORAL. 


TI 7 

Bridge,” with some changes and additions, 
and accompanied by two charming illustra- 
tions, had gone to seek its fortune in the 
office of The Toung People's Journal , and it 
was no longer a secret that Miss Sherwin 
was in the habit of writing stories and had 
already met with considerable success. 

Frances thought this a strong bond be- 
tween them, “ For father writes stories too, 
you know,” she would often say. 

It was about this time that the first 
letters, so long waited for, arrived from 
Honolulu, giving such glowing accounts of 
the voyage and the climate, and written in 
such evident good spirits, and so full of 
love for the two left behind, that they had 
to be read at least once a day for a week. 


CHAPTER TENTH. 

THE PORTRAIT AGAIN. 

Frances wished very much to go to 
school, but for several reasons her mother 
did not think it wise, so she studied at 
home every morning, going upstairs at 
twelve o’clock to Miss Sherwin for a draw- 
ing lesson. 

Emma thought this a delightful arrange- 
ment, but Frances looked with envy upon 
the children who passed, swinging their 
school bags. “It is because I wasn’t 
strong last winter and mother thinks it 
wouldn’t be good for me to be shut up in 
a schoolroom, but I shall go next year,” 
she explained. 

As the fall weather was beautiful they 
spent a great deal of time out of doors, 
118 


THE PORTRAIT AGAIN. 


u 9 

and when Mrs. Morrison did not care to 
go herself she would send Frances with 
Zenobia for a walk or a ride on the cars, 
to the delight of the latter, who adored her 
young charge. 

These two were returning from a long 
walk one cold day, when they met Emma 
Bond, who said she was going to Mrs. 
Marvin's with some work, and asked them 
to go back with her. 

“ I don’t know whether mother would 
like me to ; do you think she would care, 
Zenobia ? ” Frances asked. 

It was only a short distance, and Zenobia 
couldn’t see any harm in stopping a moment ; 
so they went in with Emma and sat in the 
hall while she ran upstairs to speak to the 
housekeeper. 

Everything was in perfect order to-day, 
and Frances gave a little sigh of satisfaction 
as she looked about her ; it was all so warm 
and beautiful, with a stately sort of beauty 


120 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


that was very impressive. She sat as still 
as a mouse, listening to the ticking of some 
unseen clock. 

Emma stayed a long time, and presently 
Frances whispered, “ Zenobia, there is a pic- 
ture I want to see, and I am just going 
to peep in that door; I’ll be back in a 
minute and she stole softly across the hall 
as if afraid she might break the stillness. 

The room she entered was a library, spa- 
cious and beautiful ; but Frances thought of 
nothing but the portrait, which in the 
softened light that came from the cur- 
tained windows was more charming than 
ever. 

“ Little girl, I wish I knew you,” she 
said half aloud, standing before it, her eyes 
bright from her walk in the keen air, her 
cheeks the deepest rose. 

On the hearth a wood fire smouldered, 
breaking into little gleams of flame now and 
then. 


V 



“ ‘ Little gfirl, I wish I knew you 

















































I 






THE PORTRAIT AGAIN. 


I 2 1 


<c If you would only come down and talk 
to me, and tell me who you are,” Frances 
continued under her breath, unconsciously 
taking the attitude of the picture girl who 
smiled down on her so brightly. 

The fire purred softly, and there was 
added to this sound after a little a gentle 
rustle which, though she heard it, seemed so 
a part of the quiet that she gave it no 
thought. Then, suddenly, as if she had 
been awakened from a dream, she became 
conscious of the presence of some one near 
her. 

Turning, her eyes met those of a very 
stately person who stood only a few feet 
away leaning on the back of a chair. She 
had silvery hair and a proud, handsome face, 
and for a second or two Frances continued 
to gaze at her, the two pairs of eyes holding 
each other as if by some magnetic power. 

Then it flashed into Frances’ mind that 
this must be Mrs. Marvin, and the spell 


122 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


was broken. She had come home — and 
what must she think of a girl who roamed 
about her house without leave ! The child 
wanted to explain, but words were not easy 
to find, and the lady did not speak. 

“ I did not know — " she began, then 
hesitated and tried again; “I thought — ” 
her throat felt very dry, and she wondered if 
she had spoken at all. It was so strange and 
uncomfortable that tears rose to her eyes. 

“ I wish you would tell me who you are; " 
the lady spoke in a strange, cold voice. 

The feeling that she was not being fairly 
treated, together with her determination not 
to cry, made Frances intensely dignified, 
and it was with a haughtiness almost equal 
to the lady's own that she replied, “My 
name is Frances Morrison," and with a 
movement of her head which seemed to add, 
“it is useless to try to explain," she turned 
away. 

A singular expression came into the 


THE PORTRAIT AGAIN. 


123 


stranger’s face; she sat down in the nearest 
chair. “ I wish you would not go,” she 
said ; “ I am afraid I startled you as much as 
you did me. Come and tell me how you 
happen to be here.” Her tone was no 
longer cold, and she held out her hands 
appealingly. 

The smile transformed her face, which 
was all sweetness and graciousness now, and 
impulsive little Frances was instantly won. 
She went quickly to the lady’s side, saying 
in a breathless way she had when excited, 
C£ I thought perhaps you did not like it, — 
but I didn’t know any one was here, and I 
wanted to see the picture again, so while 
Emma was upstairs I thought I’d just peep 
in, but I’m sorry — ” she paused; evidently 
her words had not been heard. This strange 
person held her hands and gazed at her in 
the oddest way. 

tc And so you are a real little girl ! ” she 
said at length. 


124 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


The child smiled uneasily, and seeing it, 
the lady put her arm around her and drew 
her closer. <c Forgive me, dear, for not lis- 
tening,” she said. “You came with — 
whom ? ” 

Again Frances explained, but perhaps she 
did not make it very clear, for her companion 
still looked puzzled. 

“ Do you live here ? ” she asked. 

“ No, we are spending the winter here, 
mother and I.” 

“Your mother and you — ” the questioner 
repeated. 

“ Yes, while father is away ; he has gone 
to Honolulu. We stopped here because 
mother was ill, and then the Eastern Review 
wanted father to go to Hawaii, so we thought 
we’d just stay. We have a flat at the 
Spectacle Man’s — I mean Mr. Clark’s — 
and it is very nice.” 

“Is it?” The stranger’s eyes travelled 
over the dainty figure. “You will think I 


THE PORTRAIT AGAIN. 


125 


am asking a great many questions, but where 
did you get your name ? ” she added. 

<c It was my great-grandmother’s. Mother 
wanted to put Chauncey in. That is father’s 
name, John Chauncey Morrison. Perhaps 
you have read his stories.” Again Frances 
saw that strange expression in the face before 
her. 

“ Do you know who I am ? ” the lady 
asked. 

“ I suppose you are Mrs. Marvin. 
Emma said you had not come home yet, 
but that you were coming very soon, and 
when I saw you I knew who it must 
be, and — I hope you’ll excuse me,” she 
added, remembering she had offered no 
apology. 

Emma and Zenobia, who had been stand- 
ing in the door for several minutes, now 
succeeded in catching Frances’ eye. “ I 
must go,” she said, “ they are waiting for 


me. 


126 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Mrs. Marvin glanced in their direction. 
“Will you come to see me again ? ” she 
asked. 

“ I don’t know whether mother will let 
me,” Frances replied doubtfully. 

The lady suddenly took the child’s face 
in her hafcids and kissed her lips, — such a 
strange, passionate kiss it was ; and then 
Frances felt herself almost pushed away. 

She had hardly any answer for Emma’s 
excited questions, which began as soon as 
they were outside the door, but walked 
along with an absent expression that was 
rather provoking. 

“ I can’t see what makes you so funny, 
Frances,” said her friend. 

“ Why, Wink, how late you are ! ” Mrs. 
Morrison exclaimed, meeting them at the 
head of the steps, having spent the last half 
hour at the window. 

Frances put her arms around her mother’s 
neck. “ Oh, mother, I have seen such a 


THE PORTRAIT AGAIN. 


127 


beautiful lady, and she kissed me, and it 
made me feel like crying ! ” 

By degrees Mrs. Morrison had the whole 
story, and looked rather grave over it. C£ I 
am sorry you went in at all, dear, and it 
was very wrong to go wandering about the 
house, even though you thought the owner 
was away.” 

cc But I don't think she minded ; at least 
she asked me to come again, so I think she 
must have liked me.” 

Mrs. Morrison smiled as she kissed her 
little daughter ; she saw nothing improbable 
in this. 

“I think I wont tell Jack about it,” she 
said to herself, cc for it would only worry 
him ; but I’ll be careful to have it under- 
stood that Frances is not to go into any 
house unless I am with her or have given 
my permission. It can’t happen again. 
Marvin is not a name I ever heard Jack 
mention, I am quite sure of that.” 


CHAPTER ELEVENTH 


MRS. MARVIN IS PERPLEXED. 

“ Jack’s little girl ! can it be? It is the 
strangest thing that ever happened to me. 
I do not understand it.” Mrs. Marvin 
paced restlessly back and forth, an expres- 
sion of pain and perplexity on her hand- 
some face. 

cc Why should I care ? ” she thought ; 
“ what is it to me ? I gave it all up long 
ago. — And yet — that dear little girl — 
those eyes — a Morrison every inch of 
her ! There can be no mistake, but it is 
all a mystery how she happened to come 
here. How weak I am ! why should it 
torture me so ? Oh, Jack, Jack ! ” She hid 
her face in her hands. 

It showed, however, no trace of emotion 


128 


MRS. MARVIN IS PERPLEXED. 129 


when half an hour later she encountered 
her housekeeper in the upper hall. 

“ Caroline, who is the little girl who came 
to see you this afternoon ? ” she asked. 

<c I suppose it was Emma Bond, Miss 
Frances ; her mother has been hemstitch- 
ing some pillow cases.” 

“ Do you know anything about the child 
who was with her ? I think she said she 
lived in the same house.” 

“ I don’t know who she is, Miss Frances. 
She is a pretty child, but I don’t remember 
her name if I ever heard it.” 

“ I saw her and was rather attracted to 
her. She seemed not quite the sort of child 
you would expect to find in a tenement 
house. There was a very respectable look- 
ing maid with her.” 

Caroline smiled. She was a bright-faced 
Swiss woman who had lived with her mis- 
tress for nearly thirty years, knew her 
thoroughly, and loved her devotedly. She 


i3° 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


was not deceived by the air of indifference 
with which the lady moved away ; she 
understood that for some reason her mis- 
tress wished to find out all she knew about 
this little girl. 

“ It isn’t what you’d call a tenement 
house,” she said ; “ the man who owns it has 
made it into flats. He lives there him- 
self, and has his shop, and Mrs. Bond keeps 
house for him. It is a real nice place.” 

“ I fail to see the difference,” was the 
reply ; “ but, Caroline, why did she think I 
was Mrs. Marvin ? She called me so.” 

cc I don’t know, Miss Frances, unless it 
was Emma Bond’s mistake. Her mother 
did some sewing for Mrs. Marvin when 
she was staying here.” 

“Well, Caroline, if you see Mrs. Bond 
you need not say anything about the mis- 
take. You understand? I have a reason 
for wishing them to think I am Mrs. 
Marvin, as in fact I am.” 


MRS. MARVIN IS PERPLEXED. 131 


“ I should like to know what it means,” 
Caroline said to herself as her mistress 
walked away. 

“This is all very melodramatic and absurd, 
but I must have time to consider,” the 
lady was thinking as she entered her own 
room, and closed the door behind her. 
* I must contrive to see her again.” 

Going to a cabinet, she took from an 
inner compartment a box, then she had 
a long search for the key, and after it was 
found she sat with the box on her lap 
gazing absently before her. 

It was thirteen — almost fourteen years 
since she had lifted that lid. She had 
thought never to open it, unless — well, 
unless the impossible happened, and now 
a pair of brown eyes had aroused an irre- 
sistible longing to look once more on 
something that lay hidden there. In vain 
she told herself it was foolish, idle, worse 
than childish. She recalled the burning 


132 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


anger and resentment with which she had 
put the box away so long ago. Yes, and 
had she not just cause ? But the touch of 
those young lips was still fresh upon her own, 
and whether she would or not, was carrying 
her back, back to the dear old days. 

There was really very 'little in it, she 
reflected, as she began to look over the 
contents ; but a few trifles can mean so 
much sometimes. There was a light 
brown curl, some photographs that showed 
how a certain chubby, dimpled baby had 
developed into a manly boy of sixteen, a 
bundle of letters in a schoolboy hand, and 
down at the very bottom, the thing she 
was so anxious to see again, a lovely mini- 
ature of a boy of seven. 

She gazed at it long and earnestly. 
Such a dear little face ! and this afternoon 
she had seen the same smile, had looked 
into the same eyes! Jack’s daughter! 
was it possible ? 


MRS. MARVIN IS PERPLEXED. 133 


He had called her Frances, too ; he had 
not quite forgotten. It was, of course, a 
family name, and with all his independence 
Jack had a great deal of family pride. 
And the air with which she had said, “ Per- 
haps you have read his stories,” — she could 
have laughed, but for the pain of the 
thought that she who had once been first 
had now no part in his life. Others had 
the right to be proud of him, but not 
she. 

She closed the lid and put the box away : 
the past could not be recalled, she must 
try to forget, as she had tried all these 
years ; but even as she made the resolve 
her heart was saying, <c I must see that 
child again, — I must, must ! ” 


CHAPTER TWELFTH. 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 

“Hurrah !” said the Spectacle Man, 
“ Mark's coming home for Christmas." 
He waved a letter above his head as he 
spoke, and looked as if he might be going 
to dance a jig. 

“ Is he ? I am very glad," replied 
Frances, who had run down to speak to 
the postman, and now paused in the open 
door of the shop. 

“ I was really afraid we couldn't manage 
it, travelling costs so much, but one of his 
friends has given him a pass. Mark is a 
great fellow for such things ! " Mr. Clark’s 
face beamed with pleasure. 

Frances wished she might bring her 
books and study her lessons in the shop, 
it was so sunny and cheerful, with Peter- 


134 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


*35 


kin stretched out in lazy comfort before 
the fire, his master busy at his work-table 
over some lenses. 

cc Mother, do you know it will be Christ- 
mas in two weeks ? ” she asked, as she 
entered the sitting room ; “ and Mark is 
coming home,” she added. “ Do you think 
he will be nice ? ” 

“ We may as well give him the benefit 
of any doubt,” said Mrs. Morrison, an- 
swering the last question. “What do you 
want to do for Christmas, Wink ? ” 

“ What can we do without father ? ” 
the little girl exclaimed, thinking of the 
merrymakings of other years in which he 
had always been prime mover. 

“We are so glad to know how well and 
strong he is getting that we can manage to 
have some sort of a happy time without 
him, I think,” her mother replied. “ Sup- 
pose you ask Miss Sherwin if she and Miss 
Moore will be here through the holidays.” 


136 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


The air was full of Christmas plans, the 
streets were full of Christmas shoppers, 
and the dwellers in the house of the Spec- 
tacle Man could not escape the contagion. 
The girls on the third floor were not going 
home, and were very willing to unite with 
their neighbors in a little festivity. 

Miss Moore proposed a tree, which, in 
kindergarten fashion, they should all unite 
in trimming. Emma and Frances imme- 
diately offered to string pop-corn and cran- 
berries, and went to work with great ardor, 
having at the same time to bribe the Gen- 
eral to attend to his own affairs, with won- 
derful stories of Santa Claus, and the toys 
he had in store for good boys. 

Emma was as happy as a lark. In past 
years the Sunday-school tree had been all 
she had to look forward to, and the thought 
of having one in the house was almost 
too much. Gladys also condescended to 
help with the pop-corn, although she was 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 137 

rather scornful of such home-made decora- 
tions. 

“ I suppose I may invite Gladys to our 
tree, mayn’t I P ” Frances asked one even- 
ing of the busy circle gathered around the 
table in Miss Sherwin’s studio. 

“ I should think so,” her mother replied. 

“ I know a girl I’d like to ask. She is 
in my class, and she lives in Texas, and 
I do not believe she has a single friend in 
the city.” As she spoke, Miss Moore 
carefully smoothed out the photograph she 
was mounting. 

“ You do it beautifully,” said Mrs. 
Morrison, looking over her shoulder. 

“ It is the c Holy Night’ by Plockhorst, 
as you see ; we are going to give one to 
each of our infants, and I offered to mount 
them. I like to paste ; it is my one 
talent.” 

“For a Christmas picture, this is my 
favorite,” and Miss Sherwin took from a 


138 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


portfolio a photograph of the Magi on the 
way to Bethlehem. 

Emma and Frances left their cranberries 
to look at it. 

“ How wonderfully simple and dignified 
it is ! The wide sweep of the desert, and 
the stately figures of the Wise Men, as 
they follow the star,” remarked Mrs. 
Morrison. 

“ But no one has answered Miss Moore. 
Wouldn’t it be nice to invite her girl?” 
said Frances, going back to her work again. 

“Why, of course, and perhaps we’ll find 
some one else who is not likely to have a 
happy day,” her mother answered. 

“There’s Mrs. Gray,” said Frances medi- 
tatively ; “ I wonder if she likes Christmas 
trees ? ” 

So it began, and before they knew it the 
original plan was quite outgrown. 

When Mark arrived he proved to be a tall, 
bright-faced boy of sixteen, overflowing with 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


*39 


good spirits, who contrived to get acquainted 
with all the inmates of the house before 
twenty-four hours had passed. 

He took a lively interest in the tree, and 
suggested having it in his uncle's study. 
Then on Christmas Eve the cases could be 
moved out of the way in the shop, and both 
rooms be given up to the frolic. 

As the Spectacle Man was more than will- 
ing, this was decided upon ; and as it would 
give them so much more room, Miss Moore 
thought she'd like to ask two other young 
women, who were studying in a business col- 
lege, and boarded in the same house with her 
Texas friend. Mark knew two fellows he'd 
like to have, and his uncle wished to invite a 
young man who had come once or twice to his 
Bible class, and who was a stranger in town. 

“ Perhaps," said Mrs. Morrison, when 
they were discussing it, “ we had better limit 
our invitations to those who are not likely 
to have a merry Christmas." 


140 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ My young man doesn’t look as if he 
knew the meaning of merry,” said Mr. 
Clark. 

“ My girls may know its meaning, but 
they haven’t much chance to practise it, 
in the dingy boarding house,” added Miss 
Moore. 

“ I am sure Mrs. Gray doesn’t have any 
fun,” said Frances, who clung to her idea 
of asking the old lady. 

There couldn’t have been found a merrier 
party in the whole city than that at work in 
the Spectacle Man’s study on Christmas 
Eve. Mark had brought in a quantity of 
cedar and mistletoe, and while Mrs. Morri- 
son and Miss Sherwin trimmed the tree, the 
children and Miss Moore turned the shop 
into a bower of fragrant green. 

Mark was full of mischief, and romped 
with Frances, and teased Emma until she 
wished she could crawl under the bookcase 
as Peterkin did under the same circum- 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


141 

stances. The General trotted about in a gale 
of delight, getting in everybody’s way, and 
was most unwilling to leave the scene of action 
when his mother came to take him to bed. 

Mrs. Bond lifted her hands in dismay at 
so much work for nothing. 

“ But isn’t it pretty ? ” asked Mrs. Mor- 
rison, from the top of the step-ladder. 

“ It is pretty enough, but it all has to 
come down, and then what a mess ! ” was 
the reply. 

“ Still, it is fun, and Christmas comes but 
once a year. Here, Mark, this is to decorate 
the immortal George. Can you reach ? ” and 
Miss Moore held out a beautiful branch of 
holly. 

“ You’ll come to the party, won’t you, 
Mrs. Bond ? ” Frances asked. 

cc Come ? of course she will ; no one in 
this house can be excused,” said Mr. Clark, 
entering the room with some interesting 
packages under his arm. 


142 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


The little girls were extremely curious 
about some work Miss Sherwin and Mrs. 
Morrison had been doing, which they kept 
a secret from everybody, and now the sight 
of a number of flat parcels in tissue paper 
tied with red ribbon excited them afresh. 

“ Is that what you have been making ? ” 
asked Frances. 

cc Just part of it,” Miss Sherwin replied, 
as she hung them on the tree. 

“ Emma, what do you suppose they are ? 
Everybody is to have one, for I have 
counted,” Frances whispered. 

“ I don't know, I am sure ; but isn’t it 
fun ! ” and Emma spun around like a top in 
her excitement. 

“ And she says it is only part,” continued 
Frances. 

“ I believe we have done all that can be 
done to-night,” said Mrs. Morrison, crossing 
the room to get a better view of the tree. 

“ It will be a beauty when it is lighted. I 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


*43 


think even Gladys will admire it,” remarked 
Miss Moore. 

Wilson, who had come in to sweep up, 
looked at it critically. “We had a tree at 
the Institute last year that was lighted with 
inclandestine lights,” he said. 

Mark giggled, and Mrs. Morrison looked 
puzzled for a minute, then she smiled as 
she said, “ Yes, I have heard of lighting them 
by electricity, but ours is a home-made 
affair.” 

“ Isn’t Wilson absurd ? ” laughed Miss 
Sherwin as they all went into the next room. 
cc What do you think he said to me the 
other day ? He complained that Mrs. Bond 
was too unscrupulous to live with, and when 
I asked him what he meant, he said she re- 
quired him to wash off the front porch every 
morning before he went to school, and that 
made him late for his Greek lesson, and in 
his opinion it was very unscrupulous.” 

“ If it wasn’t for Zenobia I think he would 


i 4 4 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


try to find a place where more respect was 
shown to Greek,” said Mrs. Morrison. 

Mrs. Marvin’s housekeeper came in to 
see Mrs. Bond that evening, and on her 
way out she had full view of the study, 
where work was still going on. Seeing 
Frances and recognizing her, she asked her 
name, and seemed very much surprised at 
Mrs. Bond’s reply. 

“‘Frances Morrison!’ she repeated, 
“ why that is — ” she checked herself, but 
stood watching the group as if deeply 
interested. 

“ Do you know her ? ” asked Mrs. 
Bond. 

Caroline shook her head. “ The name’s 
familiar, that is all,” she replied. 

Christmas Day was gloomy as to 
weather, but that was a small matter with 
so much merriment going on indoors. 
After the excitement of examining stock- 
ings was over the party was the event of 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


145 


the day, and was looked forward to with 
eager anticipation by the children. 

It was to be an early party, the guests 
having been invited to come at six o’clock. 
Gladys was the first to arrive, and the 
three little girls sat on the big hall sofa 
and waited for the others to come. The 
shop was brilliantly lighted and looked 
quite unfamiliar with all the show-cases 
moved back against the wall, and its trim- 
mings of cedar and holly. In the centre 
of the room on a table was the secret 
which had so excited Emma and Frances. 
A dozen or more cards were arranged 
around a central one, upon which was 
printed, “ A Christmas Dinner ” ; on each of 
the other cards was a picture representing 
some part of the dinner. Miss Sherwin 
presided over this, and Frances presented 
each guest, as he or she arrived, with a pen- 
cil and a blank card on which the names 
of the various dishes were to be written as 


146 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


they were guessed. The one guessing the 
largest number was to have a prize, and 
everybody was to try except Mrs. Morri- 
son and Miss Sherwin, who had prepared 
the pictures, and of course knew what they 
meant. 

This served to break the ice, and Miss 
Moore’s girls, and Mark’s friends, and the 
Spectacle Man’s shy student, all became 
sociable directly, as they moved about the 
table. 

To the delight of Frances, Mrs. Gray 
came. She was quite apologetic over it, 
saying it seemed ridiculous for her to be 
going anywhere, but she didn’t know when 
she had seen a Christmas tree, and so at the 
last minute she had decided to come. 

“ We take it as a great compliment,” 
Mrs. Morrison said, helping her with her 
wraps and leading her to Mr. Clark’s arm- 
chair. 

She was a sweet-looking old lady in her 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


*47 


white cap and embroidered kerchief, and 
Miss Sherwin said her presence gave just 
the grandmotherly touch their party needed. 
Miss Moore decorated her with a sprig of 
holly, and every one tried to make her 
have a good time. The guests were all 
brought to her corner and introduced, and 
then, while the rest were busy trying to 
guess the menu, Mr. Clark came and sat 
beside her and talked of old times, and the 
changes that had come to the city since 
they were young. 

It may have been an odd sort of party, 
but it was a success ; and the shy young 
man proved himself more clever than any 
one else, for he guessed all the dishes. 
Some of them were very easy, the first, for 
instance, which was simply some points cut 
out of blue paper and pasted on a card. 

cc I know what they are,” said Mark, 
“but three wouldn’t be enough for me.” 

Every one knew the map without a name 


148 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


must be Turkey , but the small strips of 
different shades of green did not at first 
suggest olives ; a cat on the back of a chair 
puzzled some, but meant catsup at once to 
others. An infant in a high chair yelling 
for dear life, was of course ice cream , but 
the medical student was the only one to 
guess the meaning of a calf reposing on 
the grass. He explained his cleverness by 
saying that his mother often made veal 
loaf \ and he was very fond of it. 

When he had received his prize, which 
was a box of candy, it was time for the 
tree. While they were all thinking of 
something else, Mr. Clark had slipped in 
and lighted it, and there it was, all in a 
blaze of glory ! 

The Spectacle Man was master of cere- 
monies, and it was worth something to see 
his face as he stepped about taking things 
from the tree and calling out names. 

For each there was a photograph of the 


AT CHRISTMAS TIME. 


149 


Magi on the way to Bethlehem, and, besides 
these, there were other things both useful 
and amusing, that had been picked up at 
the ten-cent store, or manufactured at 
home. 

No one enjoyed it more than Mrs. Gray, 
unless it was the General, whose enthu- 
siasm knew no bounds, and who pranced 
about with a woolly lamb in one hand and 
a Japanese baby in the other. Even Mrs. 
Bond relaxed, and for at least an hour did 
nothing but look on and be amused. 

When the tree was exhausted they had 
some light refreshments, and then played 
old-fashioned games in which all could 
join. 

“ I don’t know when I have had such 
a good time,” said Mrs. Gray, as she was 
getting ready to go ; “ and I don’t see how 
you happened to think of me.” 

“We had made up our minds to be 
lonely and homesick, but we have laughed 


I 5 0 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


so much I don’t see how we can ever be 
doleful again/’ remarked Miss Moore’s 
friend. 

“ It is the funniest party I ever went 
to,” Gladys whispered to Frances, cc but I 
have had the loveliest time ! ” 

The shy student had enjoyed himself 
more than he could express in words, and 
his face spoke for him as he said good 
night. 

<c I am going to have a Christmas tree 
every year of my life till I die,” the Spec- 
tacle Man declared ; and if he had had 
the least encouragement, he would have 
gone to work on the spot to plan another 
party. 


CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 

In Frances’ very own book there was 
a story of a boy who had a beautiful voice, 
and who with a great may other boys sang 
in the choir of Christ Church. The story 
was somewhat sad, for the boy, who loved 
dearly to sing, lost his sweet voice one 
day and never found it again ; but the 
memory of the music as it floated up to 
the Gothic arches, and of the sunlight from 
the great stained window falling a shaft of 
crimson and gold across the chancel at 
vesper service, remained with him, and out 
of it grew the story. 

And the story became very real indeed 
to Frances when one Sunday afternoon her 
father took her to the very church where 


152 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


the boy used to sing. It was such a pleas- 
ure to her that after this she and her 
mother often went together, and Frances 
pretended that one of the choir boys, who 
happened to have dark eyes and a high 
clear voice, was little Jack, and there were 
certain hymns she loved to hear because 
he used to sing them. 

It was the Sunday after Christmas, and 
Emma had just come up to know if she 
might go to church with Frances, when 
Gladys walked in, gorgeously arrayed in 
velvet and silk. Though rather over- 
dressed she looked very pretty, but as 
soon as she spoke it became evident that 
she was not in a very good humor. 

“ I don’t like Sunday,” she asserted, 
with the air of wishing to shock some- 
body. 

Emma exclaimed, “ Oh, Gladys ! ” and 
looked at Mrs. Morrison to see the effect 
of this remark upon her ; but apparently 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 153 


it hadn't any, for the lady went on turning 
the leaves of the book she held, half smiling. 

“ I do ; why don’t you like it, Gladys ? ” 
asked Frances. 

“ You can’t do anything you want to 
do, and everybody is cross or taking a nap. 
Mamma has a headache, and she said I. 
shouldn’t come over here, but I just told 
her I was coming. I knew she wouldn’t 
care if I didn’t bother her.” 

“Your mother is pretty funny, Gladys,” 
Frances observed. 

“ Suppose you go with us to service this 
afternoon and hear the Christmas music ; 
we can stop and ask your mother on the 
way,” Mrs. Morrison suggested. 

“ Do come, Gladys, it is lovely to hear 
the choir boys, and perhaps they will sing 
c O little town of Bethlehem,”’ said Frances, 
adding, with a nod to Emma, who knew 
the story, “ That is one of them.” 

Gladys did not decline the invitation, 


154 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


but she did not seem enthusiastic, and 
presently announced, “ Emma says you 
ought to like to go to church better than 
to the circus, or anywhere, to any enter- 
tainment, but I don't.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Frances, with a long- 
drawn breath, “ I suppose you ought to, 
but — Mother, ought you to like church 
better than tableaux ? Don’t you remem- 
ber those beautiful ones we saw in North 
Carolina ? ” 

Emma again looked at Mrs. Morrison, 
confident in the strength of her position. 
“ Oughtn’t you ? ” she urged. 

“ Let me ask you a question. Which 
would you rather do, stay at home to-mor- 
row afternoon, or go to see c The Mistletoe 
Bough ’ ? ” 

c<c The Mistletoe Bough!’” cried three 
voices. 

“Does that mean that you care more for 
tableaux than you do for your homes?” 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 155 


“No, mother, of course not, only — ” 
Frances hesitated. 

“No, of course you do not, but for the 
time the tableaux are more amusing. It 
seems to me we must make a distinction 
between caring for things and finding them 
entertaining. You may care a great deal for 
church and yet not find it as amusing as 
some other places.” 

“ I never thought of it in that way,” said 
Mark, who had come in while they were 
talking. 

“We ought not to care too much for 
amusement, but try to learn to take pleasure 
in other things,” continued Mrs. Morrison. 
“We do not love persons or things because 
we ought to, but because they seem to us 
lovely ; and yet when we think for how long 
people have gone on building churches — 
plain little chapels, grand cathedrals — and 
have worshipped God in them, and found 
help and blessing, surely we ought not to be 


1 56 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


willing to say, ‘ I don’t like church/ but 
should try to find out its beautiful meaning 
for ourselves.” 

“ I am afraid. I am a good deal like 
Gladys ; I have found it rather a bore/’ said 
Mark. 

“You remember our Christmas picture 
of the Wise Men,” Mrs. Morrison went on. 
“ They had learning and wealth and distinc- 
tion, and yet they took that long, weary 
journey for what ? ” 

“The star,” said Gladys. 

“To find Jesus,” said Frances. 

“Yes, with all their riches and learning 
they felt the need of something else, and the 
star was sent to guide them. And to-day 
each one of us has some heavenly vision 
which he must obey and follow as the Wise 
Men followed the star.” 

Frances shook her head. “ I never had 
a vision,” she said. 

“Yes, I think you have sometimes felt 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 157 


what a beautiful thing it would be to be 
good. Perhaps when you have listened to 
the Christmas story you have determined 
to let the Christ-Child into your heart. If 
you have, it is your vision ; and if you obey 
it, it will grow stronger and clearer. In the 
midst of all our work and play, the vision 
often grows dim, but going to God’s house 
and thinking of Him and what He wants us 
to do, helps to keep it bright.” 

£C I wish we had a real star to follow ; it 
would be easier,” said Gladys. 

a We’d probably forget to watch it,” said 
Mark. “ I know how it is at school. A 
fellow makes up his mind to grind away and 
do his very best, and then before he knows 
it, the edge of his resolution wears off, and 
he finds himself skinning along, taking it 

yy 

easy. 

Mrs. Morrison smiled. “Yes, that is the 
way with most of us : we forget so easily. 
And now let’s go to church and try to 


158 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

think what the Christmas star means for 
us.” 

The Spectacle Man who happened to be 
at the shop window when the little party 
started out, smiled to himself at sight of 
Mark walking beside Mrs. Morrison. 
“ That is just what my boy needs,” he said. 
<c It isn’t much influence an old uncle can 
have.” 

The church was fragrant and beautiful in 
its Christmas dress, the light came softly 
through the stained windows, and above the 
festoons and wreaths of cedar shone the 
brilliant star. The children sat very still, 
with earnest faces, till the service began, then, 
to Frances’ delight, the processional was “O 
little town of Bethlehem.” 

With their heads together over the book, 
she and Gladys sang too. At the last 
stanza Frances, who knew the words, gazed 
straight at the star, forgetful of everything 
but the music : — 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 159 


“ We hear the Christmas Angels 
The great glad tidings tell ; 

Oh, come to us, abide with us. 
Our Lord Emmanuel. ,, 


But at the Amen something drew her eyes to 
the other side of the aisle where, stately and 
handsome, stood Mrs. Marvin, watching 
her. She longed to call her mother’s atten- 
tion to this lady of whom she had thought 
and talked so much, but as Gladys sat be- 
tween it was not possible. 

All through the short service she kept 
stealing glances across the aisle, but Mrs. 
Marvin did not turn again. The sight of 
the bright child face had stirred the memory 
of an earnest little chorister who used some- 
times to smile at her over his book as he 
passed, and she did not want to remember 
those old days ; she wished she had not 
come. 

Gladys, who did not often go to church, 
was interested and touched by the simple 


i6o 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


service. She slipped her hand into Mrs. 
Morrison’s when it was over and whis- 
pered, <c I am glad I came, and I mean 
to be good.” 

Perhaps her ideas of goodness were 
somewhat vague, and certainly there was 
much in her surroundings to cloud the 
vision, but who can tell what fruit an ear- 
nest wish may bear. 

Frances hoped Mrs. Marvin would speak 
to her, but the crowd separated them, and 
though she kept a careful watch she did 
not see her again. 

As they walked home in the twilight 
Mark, who was still beside Mrs. Morri- 
son, said, cc I’m afraid I don’t care enough 
for church and that sort of thing, and 
though I know of course there must 
be a great deal in it for some people, I 
never thought of trying to find out what 
it was, as you said. It seemed to me it 
was something that came of itself, if it 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 161 


came at all.” He spoke with real earnest- 
ness. 

“ Yet it doesn't seem quite logical to 
take care of our minds and bodies and 
never think of our souls, does it ? ” his 
companion asked. “ I remember my own 
schooldays well enough to know how diffi- 
cult it is not to be entirely absorbed in 
what are called secular things. But after 
all, it is the motive of a life that makes 
it fine ; and if, in all you do, you follow 
the best you know, are faithful and true 
and kind, that is religion. The caring for 
church and things called sacred will come 
in time ; you can’t be grown up spiritually 
all at once, any more than you can physi- 
cally.” 

“You make it seem reasonable and 
almost easy,” Mark said ; “ but I thought 
one had to understand a lot of things. 
You see my mother died when I was a 
little chap, and there was only Aunt Emily. 


162 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Uncle George is very kind, but you can’t 
believe he knows how a boy feels ; people 
forget.” 

“ Perhaps they remember more than im- 
patient young persons give them credit for,” 
answered Mrs. Morrison, smiling. “There 
is one thing, Mark : whatever you do, be 
in earnest.” 

In the city streets the electric lights had 
come out one by one, and overhead the 
stars were shining. They walked the last 
block in silence, and when they separated 
at the door, Mark said, “Thank you, Mrs. 
Morrison.” 

“ What was he thanking you for ? ” 
Frances asked. 

“ I don’t know, Wink, unless it was for 
some advice.” 

“ I think Mark is a nice boy ; I am 
glad he came home,” Frances remarked as 
she took off her hat. 

At the same moment, down in the study, 


ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 163 


Mark was saying : cc How did you ever 
happen to find them. Uncle George? — 
Mrs. Morrison and Frances, I mean. They 
are not like — everybody ; they are the real 
thing. That Frances is a regular little 
princess ! How did they happen to come 
here ? ” 

“ I, too, have wondered at it, my boy, but 
I have learned to take the good things 
that come my way without asking many 
questions,” was the old man’s reply. 


CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 


THREE OF A NAME. 

Frances stood thoughtfully looking out 
of the window. To-morrow would be 
New Year’s Day and also her mother’s 
birthday, and she had not remembered it 
till this morning. She wondered if she 
could not in some way get some flowers 
for her. She had her Christmas money 
from Uncle Allan in California, and there 
was nothing her mother enjoyed more than 
flowers, but who would go with her to get 
them ? Zenobia was busy, and Emma was 
taking care of the General, who had had 
an attack of croup. 

As she stood there Mark came up the 
walk and lifted his hat to her. “ Perhaps 
he will take me,” she said, and running 

164 


THREE OF A NAME. 


165 

into the hall she called from the head of 
the stairs : “ Mark, are you very busy ? 
Could you do something for me ? ” 

“ I am at your ladyship's command,” 
was the reply. 

“ Then I’ll come down and tell you, 
for it is a secret.” 

“Is it? Well, I’m splendid at keeping 
secrets.” 

Descending, Frances stated the case, and 
Mark not only said he would be glad to 
go with her, but he knew a place where 
she could get flowers much cheaper than 
down town. 

“ I’m so much obliged to you, and now 
I must ask mother if I can go,” Frances 
said. “ I can say you want me to go, can’t 
I ? It will be true, won’t it? ” she stopped 
halfway up the steps to inquire. 

“ Nothing could be truer,” said Mark, 
laughing. 

It did not take long to get her mother’s per- 


i66 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


mission, and in a very few minutes she came 
flying down to join her escort at the door. 

As they walked up the street, talking 
merrily, more than one passer-by smiled at 
the pleasant sight, and turned to look again 
at the tall boy and the bright-eyed little 
girl. 

In these two weeks they had come to be 
great friends. Frances rather enjoyed his 
teasing ways, which so alarmed Emma, and 
had always a saucy reply of some sort ready. 
She liked to be called your ladyship, and 
accepted his mock homage with a most 
regal air. 

cc What kind of flowers are you going to 
buy ? ” Mark asked. 

“ Violets, I think, because mother is 
specially fond of them.” 

“ Aren’t they rather expensive ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I have two dollars ; 
won’t that be enough ? ” she asked anx- 
iously. 


THREE OF A NAME. 


167 


cc Dear me, I had no idea you were so 
rich ! Are you going to spend all that ? ” 

“ I don’t think that is too much to spend 
on your mother,” she replied with emphasis. 

“ Certainly not, I wasn’t objecting in the 
least.” 

“No, it wouldn’t do any good,” she 
asserted with dignity. 

Mark laughed, and inquired what flowers 
she liked best herself. 

“ Great big red roses,” was the prompt 
answer. 

“ Commend me to a princess for extrava- 
gant tastes ! ” Mark exclaimed, laughing. 

The greenhouse was an enchanting place, 
and after the violets were ordered Frances 
wandered up and down the fragrant aisles, 
quite unwilling to leave. Mark at length 
grew impatient. “ I am afraid it is going to 
storm ; we must go,” he said. 

Sure enough, before they had gone two 
blocks it began to rain. Mark glanced un- 


1 68 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


easily at the clouds and then at his com- 
panion. Neither of them had thought of 
bringing an umbrella. 

“ We can take the car at the next corner 
unless it begins to pour ; in that case we shall 
have to go in somewhere,” he said, taking 
her hand. 

They were hurrying down the avenue 
when they heard some one call, “ Frances ! 
Frances ! ” and there was Mrs. Marvin just 
leaving her carriage at the gate. “You 
must come in and wait till the storm is 
over,” she said, and almost before they 
knew what had happened they found them- 
selves standing on the porch with her, while 
the rain swept down in torrents. 

“ I am grateful to the wind for blowing 
you in my direction,” Mrs. Marvin said, 
looking at Frances with her intent gaze. 

The little girl smiled, and then remem- 
bering that Mrs. Marvin did not know 
Mark, she introduced him. 


THREE OF A NAME. 


169 


The lady was very gracious and asked 
him in to wait till the storm was over, but 
Mark said he had an engagement at home 
to meet a friend, and did not mind the rain 
for himself ; so, being provided with an um- 
brella, he went off, promising to return for 
Frances when it cleared. This Mrs. Marvin 
assured him would not be necessary, as she 
would send her home. 

“ I am always getting caught in the rain,” 
said Frances, as she went upstairs, her hand 
clasped in Mrs. Marvin’s. “ That was the 
way I happened to get acquainted with the 
Spectacle Man.” 

“ I am glad something brought you to 
me ; I have been wondering if I should 
ever see you again.” 

When her own room was reached the 
lady sat down and drew the child to her. 
“ Have you forgotten me in all these 
weeks ? ” she asked. 

£C Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” was the reply. 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


170 

“ You couldn’t ? Why not ? ” and she 
was drawn closer. 

Frances thought this was not the sort of 
person to be easily forgotten, but she only 
smiled. 

“ I’d better not take it off,” she said, as 
Mrs. Marvin began to unfasten her coat. 
“ Mark will be back.” 

“ But you couldn’t go out in such a storm, 
dear ; you are going to take lunch with 
me.” 

Clearly there was nothing to do but sub- 
mit, and Frances was not unwilling. Mrs. 
Marvin looked at her fondly ; the slender 
little figure in the blue sailor suit quite satis- 
fied her fastidious taste. It puzzled her, 
too, for such daintiness and grace seemed to 
her altogether incompatible with what she 
had heard of the child’s surroundings. Her 
sympathies were narrowed by her sensitive- 
ness to anything that fell below her own 
standard of taste. She had yet to learn that 


THREE OF A NAME. 


171 

there was a broader culture than hers. No 
wonder she was bewildered as she listened 
to Frances' frank chatter. 

That this young person was very much 
of a chatterbox could not be denied. Her 
father often said it would not take a 
Philadelphia lawyer to find out all she 
knew, and on this occasion she had an 
interested hearer. 

“Emma and I think this is a lovely house/' 
she remarked, as they went down to lunch. 
“ I like our flat," she added loyally, “ only 
of course there isn't so much room in it.” 

This, to her, made the chief difference, — 
more room, more things. Her own home 
life had always been harmonious, had ex- 
pressed grace and refinement in a simpler 
way, indeed, but as truly as Mrs. Marvin’s ; 
and so having always had the emphasis laid 
upon the best things, she felt no embarrass- 
ment, but only a frank enjoyment in this 
beautiful house. 


IJ2 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


When lunch was over, Mrs. Marvin led 
the way to the library, where the wood fire 
burned, and the little girl smiled down from 
above the mantle, and a great bunch of 
American Beauties bent their stately heads 
over a tall vase. What a combination of 
delights! Frances hung over the flowers 
with such pleasure in her eyes that her 
hostess said : “ Do you like roses ? You 
must take those with you when you go.” 

Mrs. Marvin took out a portfolio of 
photographs she thought might be interest- 
ing, and they went over them together. She 
knew perfectly how to be entertaining, and 
Frances enjoyed it very much, but when 
they came to the last one she said: “ Mrs. 
Marvin, won’t you tell me now about that 
portrait ? I like it better than any picture 
I ever saw.” 

“Why, certainly, dear ; that is my mother 
when she was a child. It is one of my 
greatest treasures.” 


THREE OF A NAME. 


*73 


Frances felt disappointed. “ Then she 
is not a little girl now,” she said. 

“ No; the picture was painted many years 
ago, in London, when my grandfather was 
Minister to England. My mother was an 
only child. ” 

“ I am an only child, too,” Frances re- 
marked, her eyes fixed on the portrait. 

“ Perhaps you will be interested to know 
that her name was the same as your own.” 

“ Was it ? And your name, too, is Frances, 
isn’t it ? ” 

£C Yes, we are three of a name,” was Mrs. 
Marvin’s answer. 

“I suppose — ” Frances hesitated. 

cc What, dear ? ” 

cc I was going to ask if the little girl was 
alive now.” 

“No ; she lived to grow up and marry, 
and died while she was still very young and 
beautiful, leaving three little children.” 

It was hard to realize that so much had 


*74 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


happened to this bright-eyed girl; Frances 
wrinkled her brow in the effort, and sat very 
still. After a while she said, cc I am glad 
her name was Frances; she always makes 
me think of the Girl in the Golden Door- 
way. ” 

cc What is that ? ” Mrs. Marvin inquired. 

“ It is one of father’s stories,” was the 
answer, and without much urging she told 
it, and told it well, because she was so fond 
of it. <c It makes me want to see him so,” 
she added with a sigh, at the end. 

Mrs. Marvin listened, her face almost 
hidden by the screen she held. “ Did your 
father ever tell you anything more of his 
childhood ? ” she asked. 

“ Not very much. He went to live 
somewhere else, I think, and I don’t know 
what became of the picture. There is 
something about it I don’t understand, but 
some time I know he will tell me. I think 
a certain person has something to do with it.” 


THREE OF A NAME. 


*75 


“ Whom do you mean by a certain per- 
son ? ” 

££ It is some one who was once a friend 
of fathers, but is not now. That is all I 
know, except that I heard him tell mother 
he did not mind our staying here, because 
a certain person was abroad ; but I guess 
maybe I oughtn’t to say anything about it,” 
Frances concluded uneasily. 

The conversation was interrupted by a 
servant who announced a young man to 
take the little girl home. 

“It is Mark,” Frances exclaimed, jump- 
ing up. 

While they had been talking the wind 
had grown quiet, and the rain had turned 
to a wet snow. Mark had brought her 
waterproof and overshoes, but Mrs. Marvin 
insisted upon ordering the carriage. She 
held Frances in her arms and kissed her 
as if she could not bear to let her go. 

“ I have had a beautiful time, and I am 


i 7 6 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


so much obliged for the roses,” the child 
said, when at last she was released. 

They drove home in state through the 
wet streets. “ I tell you this is fine ! ” said 
Mark ; “ I mean to be rich some day.” 

“ So do I,” replied Frances from behind 
her roses, and neither of them dreamed what 
a lonely heart they had left behind them in 
that beautiful house. 


CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 


A CONFIDENCE. 

This second encounter with Mrs. Mar- 
vin both annoyed and puzzled Mrs. Mor- 
rison. It had come about naturally enough, 
yet she could not help feeling that this 
lady’s interest in a child she had not seen 
or heard of six weeks ago was extraor- 
dinary ; and though she did not wish to 
spoil Frances’ pleasure in her roses, she 
shook her head at the thought of what 
they must have cost. 

The violets which arrived early on New 
Year’s morning gave great satisfaction, 
although they were, after all, the cause of 
her disquietude. Half an hour later came 
an express package from Honolulu, con- 
taining some trifles of native manufacture 
in sandalwood and ivory, a number of 
photographs, and a long birthday letter. 

N 177 


i 7 8 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I almost wish,” Mr. Morrison wrote, 
“ that our new home was to be on this 
enchanting island. The box is for Frances' 
jewels when she gets them, the other things 
to be divided as you see fit. If it were not 
for the thought of two small persons in 
the house of the Spectacle Man away off 
in the United States, I should be strongly 
tempted to run over to China, it seems 
so near. But never mind ! when Frances 
is grown we’ll make a journey around the 
world.” 

“I think father is so nice,” Frances 
remarked, as if she had but recently made 
his acquaintance, locking and unlocking 
her box with as much pleasure as if it 
had been full of jewels. 

Mrs. Morrison laughed happily ; she 
knew what her daughter meant but could 
not express, the charm of sympathetic com- 
panionship. “Oh, Frances!” she exclaimed 
quite gravely the next moment, “ it has 


A CONFIDENCE. 


179 


been good for us to do without him for 
a while. We are so happy together I am 
afraid it makes us selfish.” 

Mark left for school the first of the 
next week. His parting words to Mrs. 
Morrison were : “ You have been awfully 
good to me, and Til not forget some of 
the things you have said. The house has 
been a different place with you and the 
Princess here, and I hope I shall find you 
when I come back.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” was the 
reply. “Just at present we are wanderers, 
but we must look out for a home before 
long ; and wherever it is we’ll be glad to 
see you.” 

After this, things quieted down into 
the old routine, only now Frances began 
to count the weeks that must pass before 
her father’s return. By the first of April, 
if not sooner, he had promised. 

She came down from her drawing les- 


i8o 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


son in great glee one morning. “ Miss 
Sherwin’s story has been taken, mother, 
and they are going to print it in March ; 
aren’t you glad? And they like the illus- 
trations, too, and say they will be glad to 
hear from her again ; I saw the letter.” 

“ It shows their good taste ; I must 
go up and congratulate her,” said Mrs. 
Morrison. 

“ She did not seem to care much about 
it, mother. I don’t think she is quite 
happy,” Frances remarked with an air 
of great penetration. 

Mrs. Morrison had become very fond 
of Lillian. Over their Christmas work 
they had found each other out, and a real 
friendship had begun. Beneath the girl’s 
somewhat cold and reserved manner there 
was a genuine sweetness and charm which 
had at once responded to the unaffected 
friendliness of the older woman. 

Miss Moore professed to be extremely 


A CONFIDENCE. 


181 


jealous, saying that already Lillian cared 
more for Mrs. Morrison than she did for 
her ; and on the other hand, although she 
herself had been sociable to the last degree 
with her neighbors, they openly preferred 
her taciturn companion. cc It is well that 
virtue is its own reward, for it certainly 
does not get any other, in my experience, ,, 
she 'remarked whimsically. 

cc Don't be such a goose, Mary ; you know 
everybody likes you," replied Miss Sherwin. 

“ Oh, yes, they like me, and say I am 
good-natured, because there is nothing 
else to be said. It is my fate to be com- 
monplace, and I must make up my mind 
to it," and Miss Moore hurried away 
to her afternoon class with her usual 
cheery face. Her moody friend was a 
puzzle to her, and she by no means be- 
grudged her any companionship that would 
make her happier. 

Miss Sherwin sat at her desk. Before 


182 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


her lay the envelope containing the check 
in payment for “ The Story of the Missing 
Bridge,” but she did not look like one 
whose efforts had been crowned with suc- 
cess. After a few ineffectual attempts to 
go to work, her head went down among 
the papers, and it was thus Mrs. Morrison 
found her. 

“ I knocked and thought I heard you 
answer,” she said, <c but even if I did not, 
I can’t go away now without trying to com- 
fort you.” 

The pressure of the arm around her, 
the touch of the soft hand, was too grateful 
to be resisted ; Lillian leaned her head 
against her friend as she sobbed, “ It is 
only that I am such a goose ! ” 

“ I know all about that, dear, we so 
frequently are,” Mrs. Morrison replied, 
smiling a little all to herself. “ But,” she 
added, “ you ought to be happy to-day. 
I came up to congratulate you on your story.” 


A CONFIDENCE. 


183 

“ I have had three taken this week, and 
instead of being happy I hate it all ! ” 
Lillian’s head went down on the papers 
again. 

By dint of much patient encouragement 
and real sympathetic interest the story came 
out by degrees; all the hidden sorrow of 
months found an outlet in the broken little 
confession. Not very clearly told, it was 
yet plain enough in a general way. 

A boy and girl friendship had grown 
into something stronger. Only a year 
ago they had made happy plans for the 
future they meant to spend together. Then 
came the misunderstanding — a trifling thing 
in the beginning, but which grew until she 
was convinced she had made a mistake, that 
she had never really cared. She felt she 
needed freedom to go her own way and do 
her own work. She would be independent 
and try life for herself. 

He had laughed at first, and this hurt 


1 84 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


her pride. She would show him she was 
not a weak dependent creature, and with 
some bitter words they had parted. 

“ I thought I did not care — that I could 
be happy in my work. I meant to be 
famous and I did not mind being lonely,” 
said Lillian; “ but now that I am having a 
little success it means nothing because — ” 
she hesitated, and Mrs. Morrison said 
softly — 

“ Success doesn’t mean much unless there 
is some one to share it and be glad with 

yy 

US. 

“Yes, that is it. Perhaps if I were a 
genius it would be different, but I have 
only a poor little talent, after all. And 
I see how I was most to blame. I was 
hateful and proud — and now there is no 
help for it. I don’t know why I should tell 
it, except that you are so kind, for it cannot 
be undone, and I must learn to bear it.” 

“ It is so much better for you to speak 


A CONFIDENCE. 


185 


of it, dear. And do you know what I 
am thinking ? That it is not easy to de- 
stroy the bridge between two hearts that 
really love ; isn’t that it ? All you can do 
is to wait and be patient, going on with 
your work and making yourself worthy of 
the best that can happen to you.” 

“ But when one makes a mistake one has 
to bear the consequences,” said Lillian, sadly. 

“The pain and self-accusation — yes, but 
how often we are given the opportunity of 
undoing our mistakes. It is a hard, hard 
lesson you have to learn, but isn’t there a 
star of hope somewhere that you can fix 
your eyes upon. Forgive me for pressing 
your own moral upon you, but it has helped 
me and I want you to take comfort.” 

As Mrs. Morrison went slowly down 
stairs again, she said to herself, “ Poor little 
girl ! I wish I could help her ; but if her 
lover is what he ought to be, he will come 
back, I am sure.” 


CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

HARD TIMES. 

Bad weather was predicted by the alma- 
nac for the first week in February, and bad 
weather prevailed both indoors and out. 

Frances had an attack of grip which came 
near being pneumonia, and caused her 
mother some anxious days. Miss Sherwin, 
going in one evening to ask Zenobia about 
the patient, found Mrs. Morrison herself 
in the kitchen, crying as if her heart would 
break, her face buried in one of her little 
daughter’s white aprons that lay on the 
ironing-board. 

“Is she worse ? ” Lillian exclaimed, much 
alarmed, for surely it must be something 
serious to unnerve this bright, hopeful 
person. 


1 86 


HARD TIMES. 


187 


“ I don’t know — the doctor didn’t say 
so — but she is ill, and one can never tell. 
Oh, my darling baby! — if she should get 
worse, and Jack away — why did I let him 
go ! ” she began a trembling search for her 
handkerchief. cc I left her with Zenobia — 
I couldn’t stand it any longer, but I must 
go back now,” she said, wiping her eyes. 
“ I know I am foolish, but I can’t help it.” 

“ You are not foolish at all, but tired and 
anxious, poor child,” said Lillian, with her 
arms around her. “ Now listen to me ; 
Frances is going to pull through, I am cer- 
tain of it. The doctor would have said so, 
if he thought her very ill ; but I am going 
to stay with you. I am a good nurse, — I 
took care of my little cousin only a year ago, 
in just such an attack, and you may lie on 
the sofa and watch me.” 

“Oh, thank you, but — ” 

“ Please don’t say a word, dear, for I know 
I can help. I am going to take Zenobia’s 


1 88 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


place now, and you may come when you 
have bathed your face.” 

There was strength in Lillian’s quiet, con- 
fident tone ; Mrs. Morrison smiled through 
her tears : cc You will think me a great fraud, 
after all my good advice to you. Like the 
physician who gave up his profession to 
enter the ministry, I find it easier to preach 
than to practise.” 

“ I am glad you are human,” Lillian an- 
swered, and dropping a kiss on her forehead, 
she went to relieve Zenobia. 

She was quite right in thinking she could 
help, and during the few days while Frances 
lingered on the brink of a serious illness she 
was a tower of comfort and. strength. The 
experience drew them closer together ; and 
when the worst was over, and the patient 
convalescing, Mrs. Morrison said she be- 
lieved it was worth all the anxiety to have 
found out this side of Lillian. 

“I do want you and Jack to know each 


HARD TIMES. 


189 


other,” she said, and this meant that her new 
friend had been taken into the inner circle. 

About this time the Spectacle Man sat at 
his desk in the room below with an anxious 
look on his usually cheery face. The storm 
cloud had settled upon him, too, and his 
trouble was a question of money. 

The directors of a certain institution in 
which he owned a good deal of stock had 
thought it wise to pass their semi-yearly divi- 
dend, and with hard times affecting every- 
thing more or less, he could not see how 
Mark was to be kept at school. Sitting there, 
he tortured himself with the thought of what 
he might have done if he had only foreseen. 
He called himself an old fogy, and wished 
he might be twenty years younger. 

“ The bridge is broke and I have to mend it.” 

The song rose to his lips unconsciously, and 
he hummed it in a dreary fashion that caused 
Peterkin to open his eyes. At least he did 


190 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


open them, and there was something in the 
serenity of those yellow orbs that recalled 
the Spectacle Man to himself. 

“You are right, Peterkin, I am foolish, 
and I thank you for telling me so,” he said, 
stooping to caress the smooth head. “ There 
is always a way, and you’ll find it if you’ll 
keep your eyes open, and don’t let the 
clouds of despair and distrust gather and 
hide it,” he continued to himself, and he 
began to sing again, this time in a cheery 
tone. 

That same evening he went to see Mrs. 
Gray. It was a business call, for the old 
lady needed some stronger glasses, and could 
not get out in bad weather to attend to it 
herself ; but after he had tried her eyes, they 
fell to talking about other matters. 

Mrs. Gray was lonely and unhappy. 
Her only son was going to be married, and 
she knew she was a burden to him, and she 
wished she was dead. She had not meant to 


HARD TIMES. 


191 

tell it, but the benevolent face of the Spec- 
tacle Man invited confidence. 

He confessed to being blue himself, and 
then he told her briefly the story of the 
bridge. 

“You may say it is all made up, but 
some way I know it is true,” he added ear- 
nestly. “ There is always a way, if only we 
are patient and don’t give up. You haven’t 
begun to be a burden yet, and I haven’t 
had to bring Mark home. We can’t see the 
way, but if we go on a step at a time, we’ll 
find it.” 

Emma was also having a taste of bad 
weather. In the first place, the General had 
an illness much like Frances’, and this meant 
that he must be kept in bed and amused 
from morning till night. Then Emma’s 
teacher decided to have her pupils give an 
entertainment on Washington’s Birthday, 
and Emma was selected among others to take 
part. It was an event of great importance 


192 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


to the school children, and at recess noth- 
ing else was talked about. 

As Emma expressed it, she had never 
been in anything before in her life, and no 
prima donna was ever more excited over her 
debut than she at the thought of this little 
recitation ; but her pleasure met with a sud- 
den check upon the discovery that a white 
dress would be necessary. She hadn't a white 
dress, and she knew it was hopeless to think 
of getting one in time, still she couldn't help 
mentioning it to her mother. 

“ A white dress! Will you tell me how 
on earth you could get one ? Even if I 
had the money to buy it, where would I find 
time to make it ? It is all nonsense anyway." 
Mrs. Bond was tired out and spoke with 
more emphasis than she would otherwise 
have used. 

Her daughter turned away quite crushed 
by the pitiless logic. She should have to 
tell Miss Ellen and the girls that she 


HARD TIMES. 


193 


couldn’t be in it because she hadn’t any 
dress. She couldn’t help shedding some 
bitter tears, and that was how the Spectacle 
Man found out about it. 

Her mother sent her into the shop to get 
some change, and his supply being low Mr. 
Clark despatched Dick to get some ; then 
noticing the red eyes, he asked what the 
trouble was, and something in his kind, 
sympathetic face drew forth the story. 

As he listened an idea came to the Specta- 
cle Man. “Now, Emma,” he said, “don’t 
worry any more about this till — well, till 
Monday morning. This is Friday, so you 
won’t have to do anything about it till then, 
and in the meantime something may happen. 
Indeed, I’m almost sure something will.” 

All this may not have been very logical, 
but Emma carried away her change with a 
much lighter heart. 

That evening when Mrs. Morrison went 
in to pay her rent, she stopped to chat with 


i 9 4 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


the optician. Frances was eating oyster 
soup upstairs with Miss Sherwin and Zeno- 
bia in attendance, and her mother was feel- 
ing very happy. 

“ Mrs. Morrison,” Mr. Clark began in a 
somewhat embarrassed manner as she was 
about to leave, “you know more of the 
value of such things than I do ; do you 
think any of these old belongings of mine 
are worth anything? In money, I mean.” 
By a wave of his hand he seemed to indicate 
all that was in the room. 

“ I should think so. The portrait, of course, 
is, and that cabinet looks very handsome to 
me. Are you thinking of selling ? ” she asked. 

“ I may have to, the times are so hard, 
and Mark must be kept at school. Some 
of my investments aren’t paying anything 
now.” He paused a moment, then added, 
“You wouldn’t believe what a foolish old 
fellow I am, but I’d rather set my heart on 
giving that portrait to some collection. I 


HARD TIMES. 


*95 


have liked to think how it would look on 
the catalogue, — c Presented by George W. 
Clark’ — all nonsense, of course. Some 
ladies were here to-day to ask if I would 
exhibit it. The Colonial Dames are to have 
a Loan Exhibit.” 

“ I hope you will not have to sell it, but 
if you should, that will be an excellent way 
of advertising it. Oughtn’t you to let 
Mark know the state of affairs ? Don’t 
spoil him ; he is such a fine fellow,” 
answered Mrs. Morrison. 

“There’s time enough for that,” said 
Mr. Clark, and then added, “ I want to 
speak to you about something else,” and 
he told the story of Emma’s trouble. “ I 
thought perhaps you could — ” 

“Yes, indeed. I’m sure I can. Thank 
you for telling me,” she held out her 
hand. “How kind you are, Mr. Clark! 
Good night.” 

This makes it quite plain how Mrs. 


1 96 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Morrison happened to walk into Mrs. 
Bond’s domain the next day with a white 
dress over her arm. 

“ I want you to look at this, Mrs. 
Bond,” she said. “ It is a dress I had 
made for Frances last spring, and by a 
mistake it was cut so short it had to be 
faced. Now she has outgrown it, and noth- 
ing can be done. Do you think Emma 
could wear it? Frances is a good deal 
taller. I have thought of offering it to 
you before, and now it has occurred to 
me that Emma may not have a dress ready 
to wear to the school entertainment, — 
Gladys was telling us about it yesterday, — 
and if you will accept it, it will be doing me a 
great favor. I dislike so to have it wasted.” 

“It is a very pretty dress ; it is too bad 
Frances can’t wear it,” Mrs. Bond re- 
marked, examining it critically. 

“Then you will let me give it to 
Emma ? ” 


HARD TIMES. 


1 97 


Emma's mother was not hard hearted; 
she liked to see her children happy, but 
she had a stern feeling that hardship was 
likely to be their lot in this world, and the 
sooner they became used to it the better. 
However, when her pride was convinced 
that Mrs. Morrison could not use the 
dress, she accepted it gratefully. 

Emma's joy was beyond words, and she 
very much wondered how the Spectacle 
Man could have known that something 
was going to happen. 

When the eventful day came, Mrs. 
Morrison rolled her hair for her and tied 
her long braids with butterfly bows of red, 
white, and blue, and when she was dressed, 
Frances said, “Why, Emma, I believe you 
are as pretty as Gladys ! " 

Certainly no little girl waved her flag with 
more enthusiasm, or rejoiced more truly in 
the celebration of Washington's Birthday. 


CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. 


AT THE LOAN EXHIBIT. 

Before the end of February there began 
to be hints of spring in the air ; now and 
then there came a day so mild and fair 
it seemed to belong to April, and as the 
winter passed it carried with it some at 
least of the cares that had for a while 
rested upon the inmates of the optician’s 
house. 

Frances and her mother rejoiced because 
every day brought nearer their traveller’s 
return ; Miss Moore, busy with the Easter 
work in her kindergarten, was finding a 
new meaning in the season ; and even Lil- 
lian Sherwin felt now and then a thrill of 
joy that was like a prophecy of days to 
come, to her sore heart. 

198 


AT THE LOAN EXHIBIT. 199 


Mr. Clark was cheerful because he loved 
sunshine ; and though he could not as yet 
see the way through his difficulties, he felt 
sure it was there, and that in good time 
he should find it. 

The pleasure of Washington's Birthday 
lingered with Emma ; the General, restored 
to health and amiability, was no longer such 
a care, and she found time once more to 
spend in that haven of delight upstairs 
with Frances. 

George Washington was sent to the 
Loan Exhibit, together with the cabinet, 
some silver candlesticks, and the Wedg- 
wood cream jug and sugar dish. With 
the blank space over the mantel the study 
looked deserted ; and the owl, deprived of 
his resting-place on the cabinet, perched 
forlornly on a corner of the bookcase. 

Frances took great interest in the Ex- 
hibit, and insisted upon going, chiefly it 
seemed for the purpose of seeing how 


200 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Washington looked in his new surround- 
ings. As Mrs. Morrison was housed with 
a cold. Miss Sherwin offered to take her. 

They found a beautiful display of valu- 
able and interesting things arranged in a 
large, handsomely decorated hall; but not 
until Frances had viewed the portrait and 
made a diligent search for Mr. Clark’s 
other possessions would she give any at- 
tention to less familiar things. 

She and Lillian were bending with de- 
light over a case of miniatures when she 
heard her name spoken, and turning, saw 
Mrs. Marvin. 

“ Do you like the miniatures ? ” the 
lady asked. “ Then come over to the other 
side ; there is one there I want you to see.” 

She pointed out a picture, set in dia- 
monds, of a lovely young woman. 

“How pretty! Is it you?” Frances 
asked, seeing a resemblance to the hand- 
some face beside her. 


'/m 




“ She pointed out a picture, set in diamonds ” 














- 

































































AT THE LOAN EXHIBIT. 201 


Mrs. Marvin smiled. “No, it is my 
mother, — the little girl you are so fond 
of, after she was grown. They wanted the 
portrait too,” she added, “ but I have de- 
cided not to trust it out of my hands 
again.” 

She pointed out several other miniatures 
in which she thought Frances would be 
interested, all the while keeping the child's 
hand clasped in her own. Miss Sherwin, 
seeing her charge had found an acquaint- 
ance, moved on down the aisle. 

“Your friend seems to be interested in 
the manuscripts ; suppose we rest a few 
minutes,” and Mrs. Marvin drew Frances 
down beside her on a settee that stood 
near a tall case of lace and embroidery. 

“ Who is the young lady with you ? ” 
she asked. 

Frances explained, and Mrs. Marvin re- 
marked that she was a handsome girl. 

“ And she is clever, too, for she writes 


202 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


lovely stories and illustrates them,” said 
Frances, impressively. 

“ Does she, indeed ? ” 

“Yes, she wrote one for us about a 
song the Spectacle Man — I mean Mr. 
Clark — sings. It is a fairy tale, and The 
Young People's Journal took it and are 
going to publish it next month. It has a 
beautiful moral to it.” 

“ What do you know about morals ? ” 
laughed Mrs. Marvin. 

“ I found this one out when I had a 
quarrel with Gladys. Mr. Clark helped 
me to see it,” was the reply ; and then, as 
her companion looked interested, Frances 
continued : 

“ It is hard to explain it because you 
haven’t read the story. It is called c The 
Missing Bridge,’ and is about a young 
man who couldn’t get across the river 
that was between him and the girl he was 
going to marry, because there wasn’t any 


AT THE LOAN EXHIBIT. 203 


bridge. That is he thought there wasn’t, 
though it really was there all the time, and 
had just been made invisible by a magi- 
cian. 

“ Well, you know Gladys said she never 
would speak to me again, and that was 
like having the bridge broken between us ; 
don’t you think so ? But Mr. Clark said 
he thought it was only hidden by the 
clouds of anger and unkindness. I think 
it is very uncomfortable to quarrel, don’t 
you?” then, seeing an odd expression in 
her companion’s face, Frances hastened to 
add : “ Of course I know you wouldn’t 
quarrel with any one now, but I thought 
maybe you had when you were a little 
girl. But don’t you think it is a nice 
moral ? and — oh, yes — the last of it is 
that love and courage can always find a 
way.” 

“ And how about you and Gladys ? ” 

“ We made up. If you would like to 


204 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


read the story, Mrs. Marvin, it will be out 
next week. The March number of Yhe 
Young People s Journal , and it’s only twenty- 
five cents.” 

Mrs. Marvin smiled. Cf I shall certainly 
get a copy,” she said, adding, “ I see your 
friend looking this way. Suppose we go to 
her; I should like to meet her.” 

Why she said this she couldn't have 
told, and she half repented it the next 
minute; but when Frances introduced Miss 
Sherwin she was all graciousness. 

“Frances and I have an odd way of 
meeting every now and then, and have be- 
come great friends. I have been showing 
her a miniature of my mother, and she has 
been telling me about your story.” 

“Why, Frances!” said Miss Sherwin, 
a pretty color coming into her face. 

This girl was extremely attractive, Mrs. 
Marvin decided, and found a good deal to 
say to her over the collection of ancient 


AT THE LOAN EXHIBIT. 205 


missals. After a while Frances wandered 
off to look at the portraits. 

Mrs. Marvin’s eyes followed her as, with 
her hands clasped behind her, she stood 
gazing at an old pioneer. 

“ She is a very charming child,” she 
remarked. 

“ She is, and she ought to be, for her 
mother is one of the sweetest women in the 
world,” Miss Sherwin responded, in eager 
praise of her friend, but the next moment 
she had the feeling of having somehow said 
the wrong thing. Was it some change of 
expression in the handsome face, or simply 
the silence that followed her little outburst, 
which caused her discomfort? She could 
not tell. She had been wonderfully charmed 
by this stately person, but now the spell was 
broken; with one impulse they moved 
toward Frances. 

“ I don’t believe I like her, after all,” 
Lillian thought; and yet there was a mar- 


206 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


vellous sweetness in the smile that greeted 
the child, and brought her with instant 
response to Mrs. Marvin's side. 

As they were making their way to the 
door after taking leave of Mrs. Marvin, 
Miss Sherwin saw a lady step out from a 
group of people, and exclaim : “ Why, Mrs. 
Richards ! how do you do ? It was only 
the other day I heard of your unexpected 
return." And the person to whom this 
greeting was addressed was no other than 
Mrs. Marvin herself. It puzzled her, but 
she said nothing about it to Mrs. Morrison 
when they related their morning’s adventures. 


CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 


THE MARCH NUMBER OF THE YOUNG PEO- 
PLE^ JOURNAL. 

Mrs. Marvin was in a sadly restless state 
of mind. She wished again and again that 
chance had not brought this child in her 
way. Having seen her, she could not for- 
get her, and each meeting cost her fresh 
pain. 

And what was to be the outcome of it ? 
Nothing? Frances had said they would 
soon be going away. Perhaps then she 
might be able to settle down again into the 
old life of resolutely putting aside the past. 

She was not so strong as she used to be, 
yet she must endure it as she had done for 
so many years. There was nothing she could 
do. Her pride told her this with added 
207 


208 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


emphasis each time the half-formed ques- 
tion rose in her mind. 

She actually fretted herself into a fever 
which the doctor pronounced malarial, ad- 
vising change of air, — a prescription Mrs. 
Marvin had no thought of trying at present. 

After several days in bed, she was lying 
on her couch weak and languid one morn- 
ing, when she suddenly remembered the 
March number of The Toung People's Jour- 
nal. She would send for it and read the 
story. 

When it was brought there came with it 
the swift recollection that Jack used to take 
it. She could see him now poring over 
the puzzle column, looking up with such 
a triumphant light in his brown eyes when 
he discovered an answer. 

She held the paper for a long time with- 
out opening it, lying quite still with a deso- 
late look on her face that was more than 
Caroline, her faithful nurse, could stand. 


THE MARCH JOURNAL. 209 


“ I declare, if Miss Frances doesn’t cheer 
up, I don’t know what I shall do,” she said 
to the seamstress. 

After a while Mrs. Marvin began to turn 
the pages, till she found the story of “ The 
Missing Bridge,” with the gay little tune 
for a heading. 

It is doubtful if under ordinary circum- 
stances she would have had patience to 
read the simple story through, but to-day 
she found something soothing in its very 
simplicity. 

“No power can destroy the bridge be- 
tween true and loving hearts.” She lay 
thinking of what Frances had said about 
her quarrel with Gladys. Ah ! many an- 
other bridge had been made invisible by 
clouds of anger and pride. The paper 
slipped from her grasp. “ I did love him 
so dearly,” she cried, clasping her hands ; 
“and I thought he cared for me, but now 
— he has probably forgotten.” 


210 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


c< Faith and courage can find the way — ” 
so said the story. 

c< But I have neither/’ sighed Mrs. 
Marvin. 

Her unquiet mind seized upon the words 
of the little song, and all through the day 
she said them over and over : — 

“ The bridge is broke and I have to mend it.” 

The clock ticked : — 

“ The bridge is broke and I have to mend it, mend it, 
mend it, mend it.” 

Even the horses’ hoofs on the asphalt street 
rang out the same refrain. 

Mrs. Marvin rose from her couch in 
some respects a changed woman. It seemed 
to her she had lived years in that illness 
of two weeks. In her soul a battle had 
been waged, and the struggle had left her 
passive and unresisting ; she was waiting. 
The outward result was a strange, new 
gentleness of manner. 

At the time of the Loan Exhibit she 


THE MARCH JOURNAL. 


21 1 


had been commissioned by a friend to 
purchase a wedding gift, which was to be, 
if possible, something antique. The silver 
candlesticks belonging to Mr. Clark rather 
pleased her; and thinking he might have 
other interesting things, she had written his 
address in her note-book, intending to go 
and see for herself, but her illness had inter- 
fered. When she was once more able to 
be out this was her first thought. 

In the meantime the March Journal was 
being read by a good many persons who 
ordinarily never looked at it. The house- 
hold at the Spectacle Man’s naturally took 
a deep interest in it ; and Miss Sherwin said 
she felt she ought to divide the profits, for if 
it had not been for the song and Mrs. Mor- 
rison’s suggestion, the story would never 
have been written. 

Frances laid emphatic commands upon 
her father to buy a copy the minute he 
landed in San Francisco; and Mr. Clark 


212 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


was also charged to remind Mark of the 
story, when he wrote. 

In the hurry of sending telegrams, attend- 
ing to his baggage, and making arrange- 
ments for an early start eastward, Mr. 
Morrison forgot this important matter, and 
it did not occur to him till, halfway on his 
homeward journey, he one morning saw the 
paper among others the train boy was carry- 
ing through the cars. He promptly pur- 
chased it, for it would never do to meet his 
little daughter without having read the story 
which was, she said, almost as good as one 
of his own. 

Soon after leaving San Francisco, Mr. 
Morrison had made the acquaintance of 
a young civil engineer who was on his way 
to his home in Tennessee for a visit. He 
had frank, gentlemanly manners, and the 
cheerful, self-reliant air of a trained worker 
who loves his work, and the travellers 
were at once attracted to each other. As 


THE MARCH JOURNAL. 213 

so often happens, they discovered mutual 
friends, and also that they had the same 
affection for Southern life and ways. Alex- 
ander Carter, as he gave his name, had re- 
cently accepted a position with a Western 
mining company, — a place of trust and 
responsibility of which he was justly proud 
in a modest way. 

“You seem to have found something 
amusing,” he remarked, seeing Mr. Morri- 
son smiling over the magazine. 

“Well, no, it happens to be a rather 
serious story, but something reminded me 
of my little daughter/’ was the reply. “ By 
the way, Carter,” he added, “ it is odd, but 
the hero of this tale bears a remarkable 
resemblance to you — I mean in the illus- 
tration. See here ! ” Mr. Morrison held 
before him the picture of the young farmer 
as he knelt to release the white rabbit. 
“ This is your profile exactly. Don’t you 
see it yourself?” 


214 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Mr. Carter laughed. “I believe there is a 
faint likeness, which only goes to show that 
I have a very ordinary countenance.” 

“That is just what you have not, which 
is the curious part of it,” said Mr. Morrison. 

“ Who wrote the story ? ” his companion 
asked. 

“It is unsigned, and I have forgotten the 
name. She is a young lady of whom my 
wife and daughter are very fond.” 

At St. Louis the travellers separated with 
cordial good-byes, feeling like old friends, 
and Mr. Morrison rushed off to catch the 
train that would take him to his destination 
some hours earlier than he had expected to 
arrive. 

Mr. Carter, gathering up his things in a 
more leisurely way, noticed The Toung Peo- 
ple's Journal lying on the seat, and put it in 
his bag. 


CHAPTER NINETEENTH. 


SURPRISES. 

cc Expect me Wednesday evening; will 
wire from St. Louis/’ so read the telegram 
from San Francisco,, and on Wednesday 
morning Frances had just exclaimed over 
her oatmeal, “ O dear, what a long day 
this will be ! ” when the door opened and 
there stood a familiar figure, looking, oh, so 
bright and well ! 

After some moments of rapturous hugs 
and incoherent remarks, the traveller was 
allowed to have some breakfast, while Mrs. 
Morrison and Frances looked on, too happy 
to eat. 

“ I had to surprise you, for a despatch 
sent after I left St. Louis would have aroused 
you in the night, or else not have reached 
you till about this time,” Mr. Morrison 
explained as he helped himself to a muffin. 
215 


2l6 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“Jack, how brown you are, and how well 
you look ! It is a delight to see you,” said 
his wife. 

“ I never was better in my life ; but I 
can’t tell you how I have wished for you 
and Frances.” 

“Next time you’ll take me, won’t you, 
father?” Frances asked. 

“Yes, indeed. Wink, I believe you have 
grown a foot ! You’ll soon be a young lady, 
and I don’t like it ; people will begin to 
think your mother and I are elderly, when 
we are really in the heyday of youth.” 

In this irrelevant fashion conversation went 
on through the day. There were all the win- 
ter experiences to be related, and Frances 
could not rest till each person in the house 
had been brought in to see her father. First 
of all Mr. Clark ran up to say how glad he 
was to see the traveller back again ; and on 
her way to school Miss Moore looked in 
with a merry greeting ; then Emma and the 


SURPRISES. 


217 


General were waylaid in the hall and intro- 
duced, the former in a dreadful fit of shy- 
ness ; and last, Miss Sherwin was pounced 
upon and dragged reluctantly into the sitting 
room. 

To her Mr. Morrison's return meant the 
breaking up of the pleasant companionship 
of the winter, and she was not in the least 
glad to see him. Mrs. Morrison's exclama- 
tion as she entered was somewhat discon- 
certing. 

“Jack, I want you to know Lillian, she 
has been so good to me ! " 

“ Good ! I ? " Miss Sherwin cried in a 
tone that made them all laugh, and then her 
hand was given a cordial grasp by a tall man 
with a boyish face, who said, “We shall 
have to take each other on sufferance, Miss 
Sherwin, till we can find out for ourselves 
how much truth there is in what our friends 
say of us." 

“ I am very glad we came here ; it has 


2 1 8 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


really been a delightful winter, — all but 
those two dreadful days when Frances was 
so ill, — but I don't think I can ever let 
you go again,” Mrs. Morrison said. It 
was after lunch, and Frances had gone to 
get ready for a walk with her father. 

“Then, will you go to New York with 
me next week ? ” asked her husband. 

“ I may have to stand that. It will de- 
pend on how soon we must leave here per- 
manently. Jack, there is one rather strange 
thing I must tell you — ” but just here 
Frances danced in, and her mother did not 
finish her sentence. 

When they returned from their walk late 
in the afternoon they stopped in the shop 
for a moment to speak to Mr. Clark. 
Peterkin was the only person to be seen, 
but the door into the study stood open, and, 
supposing the Spectacle Man was there, 
Frances and her father entered. Some one 
was standing before the mantel looking up 


SURPRISES. 


219 


at the portrait of Washington, and Frances 
gave an exclamation of surprise, for it was 
not the optician, but, of all persons, Mrs. 
Marvin ! 

It was not very light, and for a second 
she thought she must be mistaken, then 
something very strange happened. Mrs. 
Marvin turned, and with a little cry stepped 
forward, holding out her hands appealingly. 
“Jack, O Jack ! ” she said. 

The astonished child saw the light in her 
father's eyes as he exclaimed, “ Auntie ! ” 
and then his arms were around her, her 
cheek pressed to his. 

“Jack, I have wanted you so ; ” the words 
came with a sob. 

“ Dear auntie, I am so glad ! ” 

Mrs. Marvin was not one to lose her 
self-control for long ; she presently lifted 
her head, with one hand on his shoulder 
she looked at him. “You have not 
changed," she said, “but I have grown old.” 


220 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


In truth, she was very white now the first 
flush of excitement was fading, and with 
gentle hands Jack put her into the shabby 
leather chair, and drew another to her 
side. 

“ I wonder if I shall wake and find it a 
dream,” she said, smiling up at him. 

£C It is better than any dream,” he an- 
swered, bending over her. 

cc I have been so lonely, — it has been so 
long. I thought perhaps you had forgotten, 
and — I am sorry — Jack.” It was the 
proud woman’s surrender, and John Morri- 
son was touched to the heart. Tears rose 
to his eyes. 

“ It was more my fault than yours, dear, 
— the years have taught me that, and I have 
often wished I could tell you so,” he said. 

Frances had stood an amazed spectator 
of this scene. What did it mean ? Ought 
she to stay? It was plain she was forgotten. 
After a little she touched her father’s arm, 


SURPRISES. 


221 


saying softly, “ Daddy, I’m here, you 
know.” 

The plaintive tone recalled both her com- 
panions ; her father drew her to his side, 
but before he could speak Mrs. Marvin 
took her hand. 

£C Frances darling, you will love me, won't 
you ? You are my own little niece. The 
day when I first saw you in my library you 
reminded me of my dear Jack.” 

It was Mr. Morrison's turn to be surprised 
as his daughter impulsively threw her arms 
round the lady’s neck, exclaiming, “ I do 
love you, but I didn't know you knew father.” 

cc And I didn't know you knew each 
other,” he said. 

“ And I don't understand how you hap- 
pened to come here,” added his aunt. 

cc Why, we live here, Mrs. Marvin,” 
Frances replied. 

“ Mrs. Marvin ! ” echoed Mr. Morrison. 

“That is a mistake which I encouraged 


222 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


because I wanted to see more of her,” his 
aunt said; adding, “ Is this really the house 
of the Spectacle Man ? ” 

There was so much to be explained it 
seemed almost hopeless ; Mr. Clark came 
in and went out again unobserved. It was 
not an opportune time for selling candle- 
sticks, evidently. 

“We will not try to unravel the tangle 
all at once, ,, Mr. Morrison said, rising. 
“ Auntie, will you come upstairs ? I want 
you to meet Katherine.” 

This was hardest of all. It brought back 
one of her old disappointments ; and with- 
out doubt Katherine Morrison was aware 
how Jack’s aunt felt about his marriage, 
but she did not hesitate. It was not her 
custom to do things by halves. 

Mrs. Morrison, sitting in the twilight lost 
in happy thoughts, was aroused by Frances’ 
excited voice : “ Mother, what do you think 
has happened ? ” 


SURPRISES. 


223 


Surprised at sight of the stranger, she 
rose ; her husband met her and drew her 
forward : “ Auntie, this is my wife, to whom 
I owe my greatest happiness/’ 

His aunt understood. This fair, girlish 
looking little person filled the first place in 
his heart ; whatever else was changed, this 
was not. 

“You must try to love me for Jack’s 
sake,” she said, taking Katherine’s hand 
with that new gentleness her nephew found 
so touching. 

It won his wife. “ I shall not have to 
try,” she answered. 

“ Are you willing to forget and begin 
again ? — that is what we are going to do, is 
it not, Jack?” his aunt looked from his wife 
to him. “ It will make a great difference in 
my life,” she continued ; “ I have been very 
lonely, and I want this little girl ; ” she put 
her arm around Frances. 

“ Then she will certainly have to take us, 


224 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


too ; won’t she, Katherine ? ” and Mr. Mor- 
rison laughed happily. 

Frances still seemed puzzled. “ If this 
is my Aunt Frances — ” she said slowly, 
“ who is the little girl ? Is she the Girl in 
the Golden Doorway, truly ? — the portrait, 
I mean.” 

“ I think she must be, and she is also 
your great-grandmother,” her aunt replied. 

“Then who is a Certain Person. You 
said he was abroad, father.” Frances evi- 
dently thought it time all mysteries were 
solved. 

“Why, yes, auntie, how does it happen 
you are not abroad ? I heard last summer 
on the best authority that you would spend 
the winter in Egypt,” said her nephew. 

“ I fully expected to be gone eighteen 
months when I left, but the death of the 
mother of my friend, Mrs. Roberts, changed 
our plans. I did not wish to go alone.” 

Frances was listening intently. “ Father ! 


SURPRISES. 


225 


you don’t mean Aunt Frances is a Certain 
Person ? ” she cried. “ I thought it was a 
man.” 

£C It is a character we are going to forget. 
I am your father’s aunt and yours, dear, and 
I am not Mrs. Marvin, but Mrs. Richards. 
Mrs. Marvin is my cousin. You under- 
stand it all now, don’t you ? ” 

Frances was not quite certain of this, but 
there was no doubt about her pleasure in 
her new relative ; and when her father went 
home with his aunt she was rather impatient 
at not being allowed to go too. 

cc Come sit beside me. Wink, and have 
a little talk,” Mrs. Morrison suggested when 
they were alone. 

Frances came and nestled down beside 
her mother ; the day had been so full of 
excitement she found it hard work to keep 
still. 

“You know, dear, that Aunt Frances 
and father have not seen each other for 
Q 


226 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


years, — not since before you were born, — 
and of course they have a great deal to say 
to each other. There was some trouble — 
a misunderstanding — but now it is over — ” 
“ They have found the bridge like Gladys 
and me,” Frances put in. 

“ Yes ; but what I was going to say is 
this: we mustn’t be selfish. We must let 
Aunt Frances have father to herself some- 
times. Don’t you think so ? ” 

As they sat quietly there in the twilight 
Mrs. Morrison saw opening before her a path 
she would not have chosen. She was a person 
of simple tastes and wide sympathies, and 
the world of wealth and convention to which 
her husband would return so naturally had 
few attractions for her. She would have 
need of love and courage, she told herself. 

“ What do you think, Kate ; auntie wants 
me to take you to New York with me and 
leave Frances with her!” said Mr. Morri- 
son, coming in. 


SURPRISES. 


227 


“ She has never been away from me in 
her life. What do you say. Wink ? ” and her 
mother lifted the face that rested against her 
shoulder and kissed it. 

“ I don't know ; I believe I’d like it, for 
then I could see the little girl every day,” 
was the reply. 

“ I think her great-grandmother has cut 
out all the rest of her relations,” her father 
remarked, laughing. 

“ I don’t see how she could be my great- 
grandmother,” Frances said meditatively. 

Mrs. Richards remembered the candle- 
sticks next day, and they gave her an excuse 
for an early visit to Mr. Clark. She felt in 
love and charity with all men, and, finding 
the optician at leisure, she entered into con- 
versation with him in her most gracious 
manner. His old-fashioned courtliness 
pleased her, and she recalled him as one of 
the proprietors of the large jewellery store 
of Mason and Clark, years ago. 


228 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Mr. Clark remembered her father. Judge 
Morrison, and all together she spent an 
exceedingly pleasant hour looking over his 
valuables and talking of old times. She 
purchased the candlesticks, and also the two 
pieces of Wedgwood which exactly matched 
some her grandfather had brought from 
England. 

“You have shown me all you care to 
sell ? ” she asked, rising. 

“ I believe there is nothing else, madam, 
except the house. I should like very much 
to sell it,” was Mr. Clark's reply. 

When Zenobia ushered her into the sit- 
ting room upstairs some minutes later, Mrs. 
Richards was struck with its cosey beauty. 
Truly, there were ways of living — pleasant 
ways — of which she had not dreamed. 

Frances was washing the sword fern while 
she recited her history lesson to her mother, 
who was sewing. 

“ I have come to take you home with 


SURPRISES. 


229 


me to lunch ; I can’t do without you/’ 
Mrs. Richards announced. 

“ Why don’t you stay with us — auntie?” 
Frances spoke the new title hesitatingly. 

“ That will be much the better plan, and 
it will please Jack,” added Mrs. Morrison, 
cordially, and Mrs. Richards stayed. 

The next time she and her nephew were 
alone together she said to him : “ Jack, 

there is something I want you to explain 
to Katherine. I do not think I could 
make any difference in my manner of liv- 
ing at my age, even if I wished to, and I do 
not ; but I am beginning to see that there 
may be a charm about — other ways.” 

cc Yes, auntie,” as she paused, “ the years 
I have spent knocking about without any 
money, having to work hard for Kate and 
the baby, have been the happiest and best 
of my life. There was only one drawback 
to it all — ” he laid his hand on hers. 

She smiled fondly at him. “ I want you 


230 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


to say to Katherine that I know I must 
seem narrow to her ; I realize that she may 
perhaps fear my influence upon Frances — ” 
her nephew began a protest, but she silenced 
him. “ No, let me finish. I have come 
to see things differently ; I want you to 
live your own lives in your own way ; I 
want Frances to go on as she has begun — 
sweet, generous, unconscious, and I only 
ask to be near you.” 

When Mr. Morrison repeated this to 
his wife, tears rose to her eyes. “ I haven’t 
been fair to her,” she said. <c I have been 
afraid, but I shall not be any more. I 
shall love her dearly.” 


CHAPTER TWENTIETH. 


Caroline’s story. 

“ Well, I suppose you have heard the 
news ? ” 

Caroline’s pleasant face was more beam- 
ing than usual as Emma ushered her into 
the room where Mrs. Bond sat with her 
sewing, the General being safe in dream- 
land. 

“No, I haven’t heard any so far as I 
remember,” was her reply. 

Emma gave the visitor a chair, and re- 
treated with her books to a corner behind 
her mother, in the hope that she might 
not be sent away. She knew something 
had happened. 

“Then you don’t know that Mr. Mor- 
rison has turned out to be our Mr. Jack, 
Miss Frances’ nephew?” 


231 


232 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ Who is her nephew, did you say ? ” 
asked Mrs. Bond, going on with her work. 

“ Mr. Morrison, to be sure, the father 
of little Frances, bless her ! ” 

“He is Mrs. Marvin’s nephew ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Caroline, laughing ; “ only 
she isn’t Mrs. Marvin at all, but Mrs. 
Richards. It is as good as a play.” 

Mrs. Bond actually dropped her hands 
in her lap, as she asked, “ Do you mean 
there isn’t any such person as Mrs. Mar- 
vin ? ” 

“ Of course there is a Mrs. Marvin. She 
was staying at our house while Miss Fran- 
ces was abroad, — she is her cousin, — and 
the first sewing you did was for her. I 
did not think of explaining, so you went 
on supposing it was all for Mrs. Marvin. 
Then when Miss Frances found out that 
Frances thought she was Mrs. Marvin, 
she asked me not to tell you any different. 
I couldn’t understand why, then.” 


CAROLINE’S STORY. 


233 


“ Why should she care who I thought 
she was ? ” Mrs. Bond asked, taking up 
her sewing. 

“ It is plain enough now. You see, she 
and Mr. Jack had had a quarrel years ago, 
and she had not seen or heard of him since ; 
then one day, you know, Frances came to 
our house with Emma, and Mrs. Richards 
saw her and knew right away who she was, 
and was mightily taken with her, but she 
didn’t want Frances or her mother to know 
that she was Mr. Morrison’s aunt ; don’t 
you see ? 

“You may say it happened,” Caroline 
continued, “but I say the Lord brought 
it about. Why should that child walk 
into the library and stand before her great- 
grandmother’s portrait, and Miss Frances 
come in and find her there, looking as much 
like Mr. Jack when he was little as two 
peas ! Isn’t he a splendid man ! and just 
his old self. Why, when he came out 


234 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


yesterday, he ran upstairs to my room call- 
ing out just as he used to do, — c Where's 
Caroline ? ’ It made me too happy to 
sleep." 

“ Did Mr. Morrison live at your house 
once ? ” Emma ventured to ask. 

cc Of course he did. When his mother 
died Miss Frances adopted him. He was 
six years old, and it was the same year I 
went to live with her, — thirty years this 
spring. You see, Mr. Jack’s father, who 
was Mrs. Richards’ favorite brother, was 
thrown from his horse and killed when his 
little boy was only three. It was a dreadful 
blow to the whole family ; his wife did not 
outlive him long, and his father, Judge 
Morrison, never recovered from the shock, 
for his only other son was an invalid. 

“ I used to think nobody had as much 
trouble as Miss Frances. She married very 
young and was left a widow before she was 
twenty-two, and it seemed as if Mr. Jack 


CAROLINE’S STORY. 


235 


was her only comfort, for her father’s mind 
began to fail, and the old home was so 
changed she couldn’t bear to go there ; but 
she was wrapped up in the child. 

“ In those days he wasn’t hard to manage, 
though he had a quick temper ; you couldn’t 
help loving him on account of his sweet 
ways. He was devoted to Miss Frances, 
and gave up to her wonderfully, so I sup- 
pose she got to thinking she would always 
have things her own way with him, as she 
had with every one else. 

“ There were gay times, I can tell you, 
when he came home for his holidays, after 
he began to go away to school. He might 
bring home as many friends as he pleased, 
and there wasn’t anything he couldn’t have 
for the asking. Yet he wasn’t half as 
spoiled as you’d think. 

cc The trouble began about the time he 
left college, but I didn’t know much about 
it then. Miss Frances had set her heart 


236 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


on his being a lawyer like his grandfather ; 
but though he studied it to please her, he 
did not take any interest in law. Then I 
think she wanted him to marry a niece of 
her husband’s who used to be at the house 
a great deal. That is — I don’t think she 
really wanted him to marry at all, but was 
just afraid he’d take to some one she did 
not like. He had always been fond of 
Miss Elsie, and it did look contrary in him 
to turn around and be so indifferent when 
he found how his aunt felt. 

“ Mr. Jack went abroad for a year, and it 
was soon after he came back that they had 
the trouble. I happened to pass the library 
door one evening when I heard Miss 
Frances say, c If you have no regard for 
my wishes perhaps you had better provide 
for yourself in the future — ’ and he an- 
swered back as cool as you please, c Thank 
you for suggesting it, Aunt Frances ; I have 
been an idler on your bounty quite too 


CAROLINE’S STORY. 


2 37 


long.’ I never forgot those words. They 
didn’t either of them mean what they said, 
but were too proud to take it back. Miss 
Frances had never denied him anything, 
and had more than enough for both, yet 
it was natural for her to think he ought to 
go her way. 

“ I never knew any more about it, except 
that Mr. Jack came to my room to tell me 
he was going, with a face as white as a sheet. 
He had some property of his own, though 
not much, for his grandfather made way 
with almost everything before he died — 
no one knew how. He had softening of 
the brain, brought on by grief. 

“The next I knew Mr. Jack sent me a 
paper with a notice of his marriage. Mrs. 
Morrison was the daughter of one of the 
professors in the college where he went. 
But — ” Caroline concluded, with a sigh of 
content, “it is all right now, and maybe 
it has all been for the best.” 


238 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ I suppose they’ll be going away soon ? ” 
said Mrs. Bond. 

“Yes, Mr. Morrison and his wife are 
going to New York, and Frances is coming 
to stay with us.” 

Emma listened to this story with breath- 
less interest. It seemed to her quite the 
most natural and suitable thing that such 
good fortune should come to Frances, but 
it made her feel sorrowful to think she was 
going away. 

After their visitor had gone Mrs. Bond 
said, as she folded her work : “ Now, 

Emma, I do not want you to be foolish. 
Make up your mind not to see anything 
of Frances after this, and you’ll not be 
disappointed.” 

“Why, mother ? ” 

“ Because they are rich and we are poor, 
and it is not to be expected that they will 
care for your society. I never go where I 
am not wanted, and I do not choose to have 


CAROLINE’S STORY. 


239 


you. Understand, I am not saying any- 
thing against the Morrisons. Frances is a 
nice child, and her mother is very pleasant 
and kind, but you can’t change the world ; 
birds of a feather will flock together.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST. 


OVERHEARD BY PETERKIN. 

Peterkin was taking a nap in one corner 
of the big sofa in the hall. It was a delight- 
ful spring afternoon and everybody was out; 
he knew this, for he had seen them go. 
First Miss Moore hurried away with some 
books under her arm ; next Frances danced 
downstairs, followed by her father and 
mother ; a little later Emma and the Gen- 
eral started out for a walk ; and last of all 
came Miss Sherwin, and sat beside him 
while she put on her gloves. 

She stroked him gently for a minute 
before she left, and, bending over him till 
her face touched his soft fur, said, “Oh, 
pussy, pussy ! so many things are happen- 
ing, and it's going to be so lonely. It must 
be nice to be a cat.” 


240 


OVERHEARD BY PETERKIN. 241 


Peterkin rubbed his head sympathetically 
against her hand, for her tone was sad. He 
had had confidences made to him before and 
knew how to receive them. He understood 
it all as well as if she had spent hours in 
the telling, an advantage a cat possesses over 
a human confidant. 

He had been dozing undisturbed for a 
long time when he heard the door open 
again, and a man’s voice he did not recog- 
nize say : “How fortunate that I met you ! 
I seem to have had the wrong number.” 

It was Miss Sherwin who replied, “ I am 
very much surprised ; I did not know you 
were in this part of the country.” 

Then they came and sat on the sofa, and 
the stranger, who, Peterkin saw, was a pleas- 
ant looking young fellow, said he had been 
back only a short time. “ I stopped in 
Maryville a day, and then at home for two 
more,” he added. 

“You have been to Maryville?” Miss 


242 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Sherwin’s voice showed surprise. Then she 
began to ask questions about the people 
there, and to talk of the delightful weather, 
in all of which her companion seemed to 
feel little interest. Presently there came a 
silence. 

The young man leaned forward, one 
elbow on his crossed knee that he might 
the better look into Miss Sherwin’s face, the 
light in the hall being a little dim. “ Lil- 
lian,” he began, cc in this past year I have 
had a good deal of time for thinking, and 
naturally our — disagreement has been often 
in my mind. When I last saw you I 
thought it was all over forever, and though 
I had come to look at it differently in these 
months — feeling that perhaps there had 
been a mistake — still I don’t know that 
I ever — that is — I mean the possibility of 
undoing it never occurred to me till I was 
on my way home. I hope you don’t mind 
listening to this ; I’ll try to be brief. 


OVERHEARD BY PETERKIN. 243 


“ Perhaps you know I got my position in 
March, — the one I had been hoping and 
working for, — and with it the opportunity 
to come East for a month or two. I can’t 
say I wanted very much to come. The 
thought of our old plans made it rather 
bitter, but I owed it to the people at home. 

“Not to make the story too long, I picked 
up on the train a magazine belonging to one 
of my fellow travellers, and read a little story. 
It was called £ The Missing Bridge,’ and was 
a sort of fairy story. It seems rather absurd, 
but there was something in it that impressed 
me strangely. It was the thought that even 
when people seem hopelessly separated from 
each other, if they are brave enough and true 
enough to try, they will find a way across all 
barriers. 

“ I may not be making this clear, for you 
have not read the story ; but you will under- 
stand me when I say it made me feel unwill- 
ing to have anything I may have said or 


2 44 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


done in the past, stand between us now ; I 
was to blame for much of the quarrel, and I 
am sorry for it all. I know how clever you 
are, — they were all talking about it in Mary- 
ville, — and it may seem only a foolish dream 
to you now, but I want to tell you — ” he 
paused with his eyes on the floor, as if 
afraid to read his answer in the face beside 
him. 

It was very still in the hall, and, when he 
looked up after a moment, Lillian had 
bowed her head in her hands. 

“ I don’t want to pain you,” he began. 

“ O Aleck ! ” she cried, putting out one 
hand, “ it was my story ! ” 

At this point Peterkin, seeing matters were 
likely to be settled satisfactorily, and feeling 
no interest in details, dozed off again. The 
next thing he knew the gas was lit, and 
Mr. Morrison was saying, “ Why, how are 
you, Carter ? Delighted to see you. Where 
did you come from ? Let me present you 


OVERHEARD BY PETERKIN. 245 


to Mrs. Morrison/’ and Miss Sherwin, with 
a becoming color in her face, was explaining 
that Mr. Carter was an old friend, and they 
were all talking and laughing at once in the 
absurd way people have sometimes, so that 
it was next to impossible to understand any- 
thing. 

When Mr. Carter left, after declining the 
Morrisons’ invitation to spend the evening, 
Peterkin followed him out on the porch to 
get a little air. The Spectacle Man, coming 
in from a walk, found him sitting there, 
looking like some dignified old Quaker in 
his gray coat and white necktie. 

Mrs. Morrison slipped her hand into 
Miss Sherwin’s as they went upstairs. 
“Am I right in what I guess?” she whis- 
pered. 

“ How could you know it ? ” Lillian asked, 
with an answering clasp. 

cc My dear, if you could see your face ! — 
but I felt certain he would come ! ” 


246 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


“ O Miss Sherwin ! ” called Mr. Morri- 
son, who, with Frances, had lingered at the 
door, “your acquaintance with Mr. Carter 
partly explains something that puzzled me. 
I was struck with the resemblance between 
him and the young farmer in the first illus- 
tration in your story. Did he sit for the 
portrait ? ” 

“Jack, you must be dreaming!” his wife 
exclaimed. 

“ I don’t understand at all,” Lillian said, 
in great confusion. 

“Could it possibly have been accidental ?” 
A mischievous light shone in Mr. Morri- 
son’s eyes. 

His wife shook her head at him, but 
Frances ran off to find the magazine. Miss 
Sherwin recovered herself, and explained 
with a great deal of dignity that, if it were so, 
it was quite accidental. That she had known 
Mr. Carter since they were children, and 
was, of course, very familiar with his face ; 


OVERHEARD BY PETERKIN. 247 

then she said good evening, and left 
them. 

“Very well done,” Mr. Morrison ex- 
claimed. 

“ Why, where is Miss Lillian,” asked 
Frances, coming back ; “ I want to show her 
the picture. It is like Mr. Carter.” 

“Not now, dear, — another time,” said 
her mother ; adding, “ You were aching to 
tease her, Jack, and I am glad she did not 
give you an opportunity.” 

Mr. Morrison laughed. “ I suppose con- 
gratulations are next in order. It is at 
least a natural inference when you find a 
young man's image so deeply graven upon 
the heart of a young woman that she uncon- 
sciously reproduces it in her drawing.” 

“ I am sure he is to be congratulated,” 
remarked Mrs. Morrison. 

“Unless I am very much mistaken, so is 
she,” her husband added. 

Frances was listening with wide-open eyes. 


248 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

“ Is Miss Sherwin going to be married to 
Mr. Carter?” 

“ I shouldn’t be a bit surprised, Wink, if 
she were,” replied her father, “ but you and 
I are supposed to know nothing about it.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND. 

THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE GOLDEN DOORWAY. 

It was evident, Mr. Morrison said, that 
he and his wife could not get away too soon 
to please his aunt, and this was true for two 
reasons. Mrs. Richards wished her nephew 
to meet his old friends under her roof — 
there would be less talk ; and before their 
return the six months' lease on the flat 
would have expired and they would natu- 
rally come to her for a while at least. She 
also wanted Frances all to herself. The 
great house would be another place with the 
sound of a child's voice to charm away its 
loneliness. 

She spent much time and thought in plans 
for her little niece’s entertainment, which 
were quite unnecessary, for Frances was as 


249 


250 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


happy as a lark, and found the hours brimful 
of amusement. To hear Caroline tell of her 
father when he was little Jack ; to go shop- 
ping or driving with Aunt Frances ; to romp 
with the fox terrier in the garden which 
the crocuses and hyacinths were making 
beautiful; and then, when the day was almost 
over, to rest in the depths of some great 
chair and look up at the girl in the golden 
doorway, — this was unalloyed happiness. 

One Friday they drove to the house of 
the Spectacle Man and carried Emma away 
to stay till Monday. How she ever came 
to let her go Mrs. Bond couldn’t under- 
stand ; she believed she was bewitched. 
Emma, however, had a blissful holiday, and 
before it was over she found courage to ask 
Frances a question. 

“ Do you like me as much as you used 
to, Frances?” she said. 

“ What makes you ask such a funny 
question ? Of course I do.” 


THE GOLDEN DOORWAY. 251 


“ I thought maybe you wouldn’t care 
so much now.” 

“ Why not?” insisted Frances, greatly 
puzzled. 

Emma thought of quoting her mother’s 
proverb about birds of a feather, the appli- 
cation of which she did not exactly under- 
stand ; but she only said, “ Oh, because you 
are rich, I suppose.” 

“ But I’m not rich, — any richer than I 
ever was.” 

“Your aunt is.” 

“ But why should that make me not 
like you ? I don’t like you to think such 
a thing about me,” and Frances looked 
aggrieved. 

“I didn’t really think it, only — some- 
times it does make a difference, you know,” 
Emma said. 

“Well, it won’t to me, for I shall always 
like you, Emma,” was Frances’ reassuring 
reply, and Emma was satisfied. 


252 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Among other pleasant things, Frances 
and her aunt were arranging a little sur- 
prise for Mr. Morrison’s birthday, which 
was to be celebrated by a dinner to which 
a number of cousins and old family friends 
were asked. 

The travellers, who returned the night be- 
fore, found a very happy little girl waiting 
for them in the carriage at the station. 

“ I have the loveliest secret, father, but 
you are not to know it till your birthday ! ” 
She couldn’t help telling this much, but 
all his teasing could not extract any more ; 
and, as it was not mentioned again, Mr. 
Morrison forgot it. 

The next evening he dressed early, and 
went to the library to write a letter, and 
when it was finished he fell into a pleasant 
revery. He thought of his struggles and 
disappointments, and of the bright future 
that seemed to be opening before him. 
The little girl smiled down upon him in 


THE GOLDEN DOORWAY. 253 


the twilight, and he recalled his old 
dream. 

It was surely a most living portrait. 
This little maiden, painted nearly seventy 
years ago, looked as if about to speak. 
Was she laughing at him still ? would she 
presently come down ? Surely he was 
dreaming, for there she stood on the rug 
beside him ! He could see the pattern of 
the rich lace that fell from the neck of 
her quaint brocaded gown. 

She came nearer, and he watched her, 
almost afraid to breathe ; it was, he thought, 
a most interesting illusion. He put out his 
hand, expecting the vision to vanish, when, 
instead of thin air, his fingers closed upon 
a round arm of real flesh and blood, and 
a laughing voice exclaimed, cc Why, father, 
I thought you were asleep ! ” 

“ Wink ! is it really you ? ” he said, pull- 
ing her down on his knee. “ I thought 
the girl in the golden doorway had come 


254 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


down once more. Where did you get this 
dress ? ” 

“This is the secret, father. Aunt 
Frances found it among my great-grand- 
mother’s things. It was made for the pic- 
ture, and was copied from another portrait 
that the little girl’s father liked. It almost 
fitted me. Do you really think I look 
like her ? ” 

“ Indeed you do, Wink ; it is wonderful.” 

Frances leaned her head on his shoulder, 
and looked up at her great-grandmother 
in great content. 

“ Do you know, Wink,” said her father, 
presently, “ I believe my old dream has 
come true, and at last I have caught the 
girl in the golden doorway.” 

“How nice!” cried Frances, “for that 
puts me into the story. You will have to 
write a sequel to it, father. Jack never 
guessed the girl would turn out to be his 
own daughter, did he ? ” 


THE GOLDEN DOORWAY. 255 


“He certainly did not,” answered Mr. 
Morrison, laughing. 

They were pleasing themselves with these 
fancies when lights and Mrs. Morrison, in 
her pretty evening gown, appearing together, 
put an end to them. Some minutes later 
Mrs. Richards walked in upon a charming 
family group. Life was becoming very 
full and sweet to her, and she looked very 
handsome and happy. She felt proud of 
her children, most of all of that graceful 
little person in the old brocade who ran 
to meet her. 

“Auntie, what do you think? We have 
found the sequel to ( The Girl in the 
Golden Doorway.' The dream has come 
true : Jack has caught her, and she turns 
out to be me.” Frances made a courtesy, 
laughing merrily. 

“ There is some more to it,” she added. 
“ Father, can't you tell it ? ” 

“Tell it yourself, Wink,” was the smil- 


256 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

ing reply, and three pairs of eyes watched 
her fondly as she stood, a finger on her 
lips, an intent expression on her face. 

“ Oh, yes ! I remember. And together 
they are going to explore the House of 
the Golden Doorway, and find out all its 
secrets. ,, 

Mrs. Richards took the rosy face between 
her hands. “ You have opened the golden 
door to me, too, my darling,” she said. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. 


“the ducks and the geese they all swim 
over/’ 

Out of a song the story grew. 

Just how it happened nobody knew. 

But, song and story, it all came true. 

(t Out of sight till time of need 
The story lay hid like a little seed ; 

And then it grew that all might read — 

(< Might read and learn — however gray 
The clouds may hang, or how dark the day. 

That love and courage can find the way.” 

No one suspected the Spectacle Man of 
poetical aspirations until Miss Moore one 
day picked up these verses from the 
hall floor. “ Dear me, what are we all 
coming to ! ” she exclaimed. “ Here is 
Lillian the strong-minded going to be mar- 
ried, the Morrisons have found a fairy 


257 


258 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


godmother, and now Mr. Clark has taken 
to verse ! If I were not so commonplace 
I’d expect something to happen to me.” 

Things were happening; there was no 
doubt about that. 

Soon after her nephew’s return, Mrs. 
Richards made Mr. Clark an offer for his 
house which he thought it wise to accept, 
and by the time summer was fairly begun 
it was rapidly disappearing in a cloud of 
dust and mortar to make room for a five- 
story office building. 

Frances could not be reconciled to this, 
nor was she the only one who felt sad at 
sight of yawning vacancy where the digni- 
fied old mansion had stood. The feelings 
of the optician were mixed ; he was fond 
of the place, but its sale solved some of 
the difficulties that had weighed upon him, 
and when Mrs. Bond took a small house 
farther out, where there were trees and a 
garden for the General to play in, he fur- 


“THEY ALL SWIM OVER/’ 259 


nished two rooms for himself, and, after 
the first wrench of leaving, he and Peter- 
kin found it very comfortable. His show- 
cases and other fixtures were moved to a 
shop not far from the old one. 

Before this, however, something even 
more interesting had occurred. 

As Mr. Carter had only six weeks' leave, 
he and Lillian decided to have a quiet wed- 
ding the last of April, making a short visit 
at his home on their way West. 

“ I am very much alone in the world, 
and there are no people I care more to have 
at my wedding than you and Mary,” Lil- 
lian said to Mrs. Morrison ; “ and it is 
easier and simpler to have it here.” 

Miss Moore professed to be highly in- 
dignant at the whole affair. “ Here I have 
been upholding her in her independence, 
taking her side, and she in the basest man- 
ner deserts and goes over to the enemy,” 
she exclaimed. 


26 o 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


Lillian laughed shamelessly. “ Never 
mind, dear, when you have finished your 
course you are coming out to me, and we’ll 
start the most ideal of kindergartens in 
our wild Western town.” 

She went about her preparations with a 
light heart, growing prettier and brighter 

each day. As for Mr. Carter, he won 

golden opinions from everybody, even from 
the critical Wilson, who was one day moved 
to confide that he and Zenobia were con- 
templating the same step. 

No one showed a more genuine interest 

in the wedding preparations than Mrs. 
Richards. She had taken a fancy to Lillian, 
and declared that her love affair was de- 
lightfully interesting and novel for these 
unromantic times. She lent her carriage 
to facilitate the shopping, and the evening 
before the wedding day entertained the 
bride and groom elect. 

Just such a gathering had never before 


“THEY ALL SWIM OVER.” 261 


been seen in Mrs. Richards’s beautiful home, 
for it was Frances who had the naming of 
the guests, and she chose to have their 
friends of the winter. There was the Spec- 
tacle Man, of course, and Emma and Gladys 
and Miss Moore, — it was too bad Mark 
couldn’t get home in time, — and Mrs. Gray, 
because she was the beginning of it all, and 
Frances was fond of her. This was the 
party, with their own family and the bride 
and groom. 

Caroline said that if Mrs. Richards had 
been going to entertain the Queen and the 
President together, she couldn’t have been 
more particular about everything, and in- 
deed she spared no trouble or expense. 

The table was exquisite in its bridal deco- 
rations of lilies of the valley, and the whole 
house was fragrant with flowers; the guests 
all looked their best, and it was throughout 
a most festive and happy occasion. 

Frances fluttered about in her great- 


262 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


grandmother’s dress, evidently considering 
it her party ; the Spectacle Man beamed 
on everybody ; and old Mrs. Gray, in a new 
silk gown, looked on in quiet enjoyment. 
Miss Moore was, if possible, merrier than 
usual, but this may have been because she 
was trying not to think how far away Lil- 
lian was going. 

When the supper was over and the 
healths of the bride and groom had been 
drank, “The Story of the Missing Bridge” 
was proposed, and the optician rose to 
respond. 

“ It has occurred to me as a somewhat 
strange thing,” he began, “ that seven or 
eight months ago we, who now feel like old 
friends, had not met. In this time we 
have learned to know one another, and a 
little story, which grew out of a foolish old 
song, has become a bond between us, — 
something we shall carry with us wherever 
we go. We have learned lessons of courage 


“THEY ALL SWIM OVER.” 263 


and cheer ; some of us have found bridges 
over our difficulties and troubles where we 
had supposed there were none ; and I can 
at least say for myself that hereafter, into 
whatever perplexities I may fall, I shall 
remember the lesson of the story, that 
there is always a way, and love and cour- 
age can find it.” 

He sat down amid applause, and Frances 
said, “ I am going to remember it, too, 
for I did find a way when Gladys and I 
quarrelled.” 

“ I can add my testimony that ways open 
in the most unpromising places,” put in her 
father. 

“ Perhaps if I had heard the story sooner 
my broken bridge would have been mended 
long ago,” said Mrs. Richards. 

“ It is wonderful,” Mrs. Gray took cour- 
age to say, “ how things turn out sometimes. 
I feel like telling everybody how sweet and 
kind my new daughter is. She really seems 


264 THE SPECTACLE MAN. 

fond of me already, and I was so dreadful 
afraid of her.” 

“When we look back we can't help see- 
ing that we have been guided by a higher 
Power, who could see the path that was dark 
to us,” Mrs. Morrison said softly ; and the 
Spectacle Man added, “ That’s true.” 

“ Every one knows how much I owe to 
the story,” Mr. Carter began, but Lillian 
blushed and shook her head at him. 

cc I am too commonplace to have inter- 
esting experiences,” Miss Moore announced,' 
<c so, as I haven’t anything to relate, with 
Mr. Clark’s permission I’ll read a poem ; ” 
and thereupon she read the verses she had 
found in the hall. 

The Spectacle Man was quite embar- 
rassed, and insisted that he was not in the 
habit of dropping into verse, and that this 
had not been intended for the public. 

“ I want them, Mr. Clark, for the book 
I mean to write when I have time, about 


“THEY ALL SWIM OVER.” 265 

our winter at your house,” Miss Sherwin 
said. 

“Are you really going to do that. Miss 
Sherwin ? How lovely ! ” cried Frances. 
“ And you must begin with Mrs. Gray’s 
glasses, and put Emma and Gladys and 
me in, — and Peterkin.” 

Lillian laughed, and promised that when 
the story was written they should all be 
in. 

The next morning was as beautiful as if 
it had been ordered for the occasion, and 
the small number of persons gathered in the 
church saw a charming bride, who seemed 
with her golden hair and her shimmering 
gown of soft green tones, to be herself a part 
of the springtime. 

She walked up the aisle with her maid of 
honor. Miss Moore, preceded by Frances 
and Emma in a state of unutterable bliss, 
while Gladys looked on from a front pew. 
Mr. Clark gave the bride away, and nothing 


266 


THE SPECTACLE MAN. 


happened to mar the simple and beautiful 
ceremony. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Carter had driven 
off in a shower of rice the Spectacle Man 
returned to his shop and began that very 
afternoon to pack up. As he worked he 
sang cheerily : — 

“ The ducks and the geese they all swim over, 

Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do. 

The ducks and the geese they all swim over, 

Fol de rol de ri.” 


































































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